


The Wild Underneath

by DeanRH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angel Wings, Canon-Typical Violence, Creepy, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, M/M, Monsters, Mystery, Past Child Abuse, Psychological Horror, Wilderness Survival, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:40:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 31
Words: 52,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRH/pseuds/DeanRH
Summary: Dean Winchester hasn't been back to the family cabin in years, and is surprised to discover that his father left it to him in his will. Truth be told, Dean hasn't been near anything related to his past for a long time. He decides to visit the place and try to unravel the mystery that has haunted his entire life. Worse things happen at sea, they say. The same is true of the forest, where dead things don't always stay buried.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 208
Kudos: 166





	1. The Cabin

Dean hadn't been back up here in years.

But it was time.

The old cabin had memories he wasn't sure he was ready to face. Most of the time, he'd ignored the place, pretended it didn't exist. 

For some reason, he'd decided that now was the time.

Dad had left him the place in his will. He couldn't fathom why. They'd never really gotten along.

But there was nobody left.

Dean had never lingered. He'd run, the second he could, fast and far away as possible. Lived on the road, anywhere and everywhere. Never really long enough to put down roots, although he gave it a shot once or twice.

_Not that Sammy cared. Not with that bigshot job of his out in California._

"It's not the 90s anymore, Dean," said Sam's shrill voice in his head. "You can't just live on the road and bum around. What are you going to do for your retirement? And why don't you ever have your phone on you?"

The usual arguments. Dean's stuck in the past.

He didn't bother to tell Sam that he'd never replaced the grocery store burner phone he'd picked up years back. Didn't see the point.

_Not like anybody wants to talk to me anyway._

Dad's gone, Mom's gone, Dean's life alone on the road hadn't endeared him much to nuclear-family-picket-fence-2.5-kids Sammy. 

Matter of fact, Dean's life on the road hadn't really endeared him to anyone.

So he was alone. Sam didn't really expect to be called anymore.

They hadn't spoken in years.

But this year, as the weather warmed up, Dean thought about the cabin more and more.

A place of the last good memories he had, before a string of no-tell motels, diners, and quickies along the old highways of America.

They decommissioned Route 66 a long time ago, not that the tourist brochures told anyone.

Nothing's real on that road anymore.

Maybe nothing's real on the road anymore in general, Dean thought.

So in his fortieth year, he'd finally taken Dad's old beat-up Impala up the gravel roads that wound down into the secret valley that hid the lake.

***

It was one of the lake's big selling points, when they were kids. A mystical paradise all their own.

_"See? You can't even see it's here, not from above," he remembered his dad saying proudly. "Just looks like pine forest as far as the eye can see. And you wouldn't come down this broken old road unless you had a specific reason. The perfect hideaway."_

Dean had been smart enough, even then, not to ask his dad what exactly it was they were hiding from. But he was right, and he was even more right thirty years later -- if Dean hadn't known exactly what he was looking for, he would've missed the old road entirely. 

Modern GPS had nothing on this place, and it was in a dead zone for cell phones, the Internet, any contact with the outside world.

_A time capsule. Just like me._

He tried not to think about how Sam had told him that if he hadn't inherited the Impala, he "wouldn't have even _had_ a car, Dean, don't you understand that you need to make money now that you're an adult?" Sam thought of Dean as a waste of space. A waste of time. 

Last time Dean had visited his brother, he'd looked at the $15 salad at LAX with a speculative sort of horror, realizing that there was no way he could afford daily life there, let alone a single salad in the terminal.

He stood there, forlorn and intensely aware of his old leather jacket, another inheritance from their Dad; his shitkickers, his ripped stonewashed jeans, his T-shirt. When Sam came to pick him up, all sleek in his suit with his long hair slicked back and wearing sunglasses inside like a douchebag, Dean thought he was going to spontaneously combust with humiliation.

Sam had given him an evaluating look, but had said nothing.

Then he'd led Dean out to his car. Some kind of eco-friendly hybrid Lexus or something, Dean couldn't really remember, despite his interest in cars. 

_That ain't a car, that's a computer. Nerd._

Dean had said it as a joke, but it came out wrong. Shaky.

He'd spent the week with Sam, more and more quiet, seeing all the beautiful things his brother had attained. Sam was a man of technology, of the future. Sam was the genius in the family. Dean was the loser.

Always had been. Apparently always would be.

Their farewell was stilted, to say the least.

When Sam had tried to give him a hug, Dean had made some kind of excuse and scuttled off into the airport. He'd never been so eager to white-knuckle it all the way back to Kansas, where the Impala was waiting for him at the airport's long-term parking lot.

He'd never really had the guts to tell Sam that he'd been homeless for years, technically speaking.

***

The Impala rumbled up the little driveway, overgrown now with long grass. He was a little surprised that the car had made the journey at all. These roads weren't exactly in perfect condition these days.

He got out of Baby and slammed the door.

The sound, the smells, everything about the place filled his senses.

He breathed in.

That wild scent of grass, of the deep forest pine and cedar as the wind blew softly.

Northern Minnesota could be a paradise, if you were the right kind of person.

Dean had always thought he wasn't, especially given the brutal winters.

The sun was low in the sky, turning the distant lake into a mirror, reflecting a flat lavender sky.

Loons called, their strange whistling laughter echoing across the lake.

_What am I doing here?_ he wondered.

He looked up at the cabin, perched on the hill above the lake.

_Old ghosts._

He shook his head, and started climbing.

***

Standing on the threshhold of the cabin, Dean held his breath without thinking.

He blew it out, loud in the relative silence of the deep woods surrounding him.

_Dad, Mom, and Sam playing Scrabble out here in the screen porch after dinner. Sam always wanted to use those little corncob handles on his corn when we ate on the porch. And he always won the game, even as a kid he was whip-smart._

Dean could see them laughing, together.

_A family._

He pushed into the screen porch. He was lucky that Minnesota was so spread out, and this place so well-hidden, that there wasn't really much likelihood for vandalism here.

The porch had become home to spiders and some varieties of mammals, probably a mean woodchuck or two had taken up residence beneath the cabin. 

_He remembered coming back here at the start of summer, just him and Sam, cleaning out the cobwebs and getting the cabin ready, opening up all the windows to let in the fresh summer wind. Dad and Mom were so surprised._

But that was all before.

Dean sighed, as he put the key in the lock and turned it.

The door swung open.

The tiny cabin looked as it always had. The shadows were deepening as the night came on, but he knew the place like the back of his hand. Not that there was much to know.

Off to the right-hand side, an old bookshelf filled with all those 70s-era books, monsters and lawyers and everything people liked to read about in those days. Thrillers, ghost stories. On the wall facing the lake with the big window, a long sofa next to the bookshelf, and across from it, his favorite chair, a weird old thing with a strange texture that made zipping sounds if he ran his fingernails across it and a color of purple he wasn't even certain really existed. That chair faced the window, and the person sitting in it could see all the way down to the lake, and the sauna, and the dock that went into the water.

The whole cabin was a microcosm of its time, with its stripy carpet and its cheery 70s floral table, which sat in front of the kitchen on the left side of the cabin. On the right side of the kitchen was the little bathroom where the water always initially ran orange because of the iron ore sediment in the area. Then, up a single step was a linen closet, and on either side of it, a bedroom with an accordion pull-door. 

Memories flooded through Dean as he flicked the light on. He was thankful to hear it buzz to life. He wasn't even certain things would still be working, but he wasn't really keen on getting the kerosene lamp out just to sit alone in the old family cabin.

It was small, and cramped, with a damp and musty smell from being shut up for so long.

_But it's home._

_Or the closest thing I've really had in years._

There was a creaking sound, outside. Dean jumped, and then shook his head at himself.

Still. He'd heard something, loud and clear. Just to the left of the cabin.

Dean peered out the window into the darkness, but there wasn't much to see.

"Old ghosts," he said aloud, laughing a little at himself.

He figured the cleanup could wait until morning.


	2. The Journal

Dean woke as man was meant to, the birds singing in the trees.

He blinked awake, disoriented for a moment until he remembered where he was.

_Right. The old cabin._

He sneezed.

 _Time to get up and clean this place out,_ he thought. 

He rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom, yawning as the old faucets clunked to life and groaned with the effort until they started to spit out some orange water that eventually ran clear.

He didn't bother showering yet, as he had work to do.

Out in the kitchen he washed a few dead spiders out of the sink and grabbed his bag, pulling out some partly-squished chocolate doughnuts and a little packet of coffee. He knew he'd need to make a run to the Willow Store, a little rickety run-down place about ten miles out from here, and pick up some real groceries.

But first, the place needed to be clean enough for food, and aside from the cabin's neglect, Dean was something of a germaphobe.

He wiped out a pot and boiled some water on the stove. He'd get to the coffeepot later on.

Right now, he just needed to wake up.

***

Cup of coffee in his hand and a partly-melted chocolate doughnut in his mouth, Dean went out onto the screen porch. 

He set down the cup and brushed off one of the chairs until it was acceptable enough to sit on, and he settled down comfortably, leaning back in the wicker chair that squeaked as he sat down in it.

The view was spectacular, just like he remembered.

_"You see that, Dean?" his dad used to say. "It looks just like the ocean."_

_"Really?" Dean would ask._

_"Yeah," said his dad, chuckling. "Someday, I'll bring you and Sammy to see the ocean. Would you like that?"_

_"Yeah!" Dean yelled. "Dad! That would be awesome! Do you promise?"_

_"Sure do," said his dad._

_"You gotta say **I promise** ," Dean said._

_His dad had gotten down on his knees and looked into Dean's eyes very seriously._

_"I promise," he said. "Now. What do you say to s'mores?"_

_"Yeah!" Dean had roared, running down toward the lake. "Sammy! Dad says we're gonna see the ocean! And we're gonna make s'mores!"_

_"Play nice with your brother, Dean," his mom had called._

_"I always do, Mom!" Dean yelled back._

_"No you don't!" Sam yelled._

_He remembered the echoes of his parents' laughter reached them all the way down at the lakeshore._

***

Dean held the mug of coffee in his hands, the doughnut long since eaten.

His smile faded.

"You never did take us to the ocean," he said out loud to no one. "Promises, promises, eh."

He sighed and set the mug down, noticing the deep furrow it made in the dust.

"Man," he said. "This place has sure gone to hell. Guess I've got my work cut out for me here."

He got up and went to the bathroom to fill up the mop bucket, took the dust rags out of the linen closet and piled all the cleaning stuff on the table.

"Here goes nothin'," he muttered to himself, and got to work.

***

It was hard work. The cabin had been neglected for a long time. But things were getting brighter as he went. He was glad he'd come out this early, because if he'd had to do this in July he'd be sweating like a pig in all the heat.

He was dusting the bookshelf when the rag snagged on something. He knelt down to take a look.

There was an old leatherbound journal sitting there, right between _Jaws_ and something by Tom Clancy.

"Dad's journal," Dean whispered with something akin to reverence. 

Chores forgotten, Dean pulled the journal out from the bookshelf and sat down to read it.

***

_July 8, 1989. The kids seem to really love this place. One of the local dogs is the most evil-looking Golden Retriever I've ever seen. The place is really busy now since it was just the Fourth of July._

_I don't know how long I can keep coming here. Not after what happened to Mary. But it's like an addiction. I have to try._

_Addictions tend to kill the host._

Dean looked up, surprised to be in the warmth of an early-summer day. He shook his head and snapped the journal shut.

He cleared his throat and stood up.

Singing _Ramble On_ at the top of his lungs, he went back to cleaning.

***

Dean always knew, of course, that it would end here.

The other bedroom. It belonged to Mom and Dad.

He wasn't even sure why he'd chosen to sleep in his old narrow bed the night before. He was a grown man, after all, and the twin bed didn't really fit his body.

But he knew. Deep down.

He took a shuddering breath and slid open the other accordion-plastic door.

There it was, his parents' double-bed. There was a fluffy fur blanket rolled up at the foot of it. 

Nothing had changed. It seemed almost anticlimactic. 

Dean wasn't sure exactly what it was that he had been fearing, anyway.

_They're dead now. They can't hurt you._

_Ever again._

_It's just a room._

Letting out a shaky breath, he put the mop into the bucket, and sloshed water onto the floor.

Maybe, after all these years, he could start to change things.

Maybe, after all these years, he could build new memories here.

***

A few hours later, Dean was in the Impala, driving down the gravel road in a huge cloud of dust. He was glad he knew the way, so many twists and turns down those old roads to get back to pavement at all lasted for about ten miles but seemed longer.

But eventually he was up and out, onto the blacktop. He noticed the dust on Baby and winced.

"I'll scrub you down as soon as I can," he promised.

The drive to the Willow Store was another five miles or so. There was a diner across the parking lot from the place, but that was all. This was the kind of place people went for the summer. Wintertime it was locked up tight. There weren't many people out here past the fall colors. It took a certain kind of person to live here year-round by choice.

 _And sometimes it was somebody on the run,_ thought Dean wryly.

The Impala trundled into the old parking lot of the Willow Store.

_The old screen door had been handmade, the wood not fitting right into the doorframe, and one of the screens slightly pulled out. But Dean and Sam loved the Willow Store and all its weird and wonderful things._

_There were strange joke posters everywhere, long since faded. There were huge wells full of minnows and leeches for the fishermen. The store itself was tiny and compact, and people often had to take turns going in and out._

_But the best thing about the Willow Store was the ice cream._

_Dean still had no idea how it was done. The people at the Willow Store must have been sorcerers. When someone ordered an ice cream -- and the place always had strange flavors even in those days, really unique options that had become de rigueur, but at that time were as rare as snow in July._

_They'd pack so much ice cream onto the cone that Dean was **sure** the cone would break, but it never had. Then the goal was to eat all the ice cream before they reached the lake, without it melting onto the backseat of the Impala. Dad said as long as they never got any ice cream on the seats, they'd always start a trip down here with a cone at the Willow Store._

_And both Dean and Sam had kept their promise._

"Unlike some," muttered Dean. He sighed at himself. 

_All these old memories are useless,_ he thought. _Everything's coming back to me here._

_Funny how I ran away so long and just wound up right back here._

Dean reached the door and pulled on it.

The door wouldn't give.

**_PERMANENTLY CLOSED_ **

read a sign on the door beyond the screen.

Dean stared at it for a moment.

"Ah, damn," he said. 

_Nothing lasts forever, Dean._

He stood there for a while, not sure what to do.

"Hey!" 

He turned at the sound of the voice.

Some old man leaning out of his truck on the road.

"You lookin' for the Willow?"

Dean nodded.

"They moved up the road a bit," said the man. "Had to expand, you know."

"Oh," said Dean, insanely grateful that he wouldn't have to drive all the way to Eveleth or Hibbing to get groceries. "Thanks."

"No problem," said the old man. "Been away for some time, I take it?"

"Yeah," said Dean. "A few years."

"Coupla changes now," said the old man. "But it's still the same old place."

Dean nodded, with a slight smile.

"Thanks for your help!"

"See ya around," said the old man, and he pulled away, heading in the opposite direction.

Dean turned away from the store and got into the Impala.

Something in him hated change.

Oh, he _loved_ change, as long as he was the one making the choice.

But finding childhood memories locked up and put away was always difficult for him.

Maybe it was because he'd lived on the road for so long that he'd expected some consistency in his past. For things to stay put.

 _Why should they?_ he reasoned. _I sure didn't._

He drove down the road a little ways, and sure enough, off to the right-hand side was a gas station.

It was _enormous,_ a big white-painted warehouse with beautiful new gas pumps.

 _Willow Store,_ it read proudly on a freshly-painted sign. A far cry from the hand-carved slice of wood that hung over the old place.

He walked into the store, feeling as if he was dreaming. Everything gleamed. There was even a central salad bar, like in the new convenience stores that had started springing up all over the States. He knew the Willow Store had always prided itself on its weird and unique food acquisitions, so to find a little sushi section and a few shelves marked _International_ was not really a surprise.

But the whole thing was so clean, and new, and jarring.

"What can I do you for?" asked the old man behind the till.

"Oh, hey," said Dean. "Just looking for groceries."

"You're up here early in the season," said the old man. 

"Yeah, just wanted to get the cabin cleaned out and ready," said Dean. "Listen, I, uh -- I came up here a lot as a kid --"

The old man grinned.

"You want an ice cream cone?"

Dean ducked his head, a little bashful. He hated that he could feel a light dusting of blush across his cheeks.

 _Damned Scottish heritage,_ he thought. _Damned freckles._

He didn't mean to wear his emotions on his sleeve, but his skin did it for him without his permission.

"Yes, please," he said. "If you still have them."

"Sure do!" said the man. "What'll you have? We've got whisky ice cream today. Lotta guys like it."

"Uh, that sounds awesome but -- do you have peppermint bonbon?" asked Dean.

"Coming right up," said the old man.

Dean watched in fascination as the man built an enormous ice cream cone right before his eyes.

***

Outside, Dean ate his ice cream cone while leaning against the Impala.

Huge bags of groceries filled the backseat now, enough to last him a month if he wanted to stay out there that long. 

But he wasn't about to attempt the usual _eat the cone before you get to the cabin_ trick while also driving. He'd spent a lifetime not getting ice cream on the seats of that car, and he wasn't about to start now.

Unlike other people he could mention, Dean kept his promises.


	3. The Well

Dean finished putting away all the food in the kitchen. He wasn't sure he really needed that much stuff, but it meant not driving around and getting Baby dirty. That gravel was just breaking his heart, and he didn't want to put her through more than was necessary.

He surveyed his work and felt pretty damned proud of himself. Pulling down all the spiderwebs on the front porch hadn't been great, but he was also glad to discover that no woodchucks or anything else had made a home beneath the cabin. The place was looking good as new, or as good as a place of its age could look.

He ate a sandwich, hard salami, Colby cheese and Miracle Whip, as he stared out at the ocean-green clear water of the lake.

 _I'll tackle the sauna after lunch,_ he thought. _Maybe put the boat in the water. Would be nice to have a sauna tonight after all this._

First things first though, he needed a shower. He felt a slight wave of embarrassment thinking how he'd gone all the way in to the store without one, but he was pretty sure the old guys down there didn't care one way or the other. Tourists wouldn't be coming around for another few weeks at least, so he and the old codgers had the place to themselves for the time being.

He finished his sandwich and a glass of milk, leaving the dishes in the sink for later.

As he stepped up to the bedroom to grab some clean clothes, he stopped dead.

He turned to look in what was once his parents' bedroom.

Something was different from this morning. He couldn't really put a finger on it.

Then he realized what had tipped him off.

The fur blanket at the foot of the bed had moved.

He blinked at it. He was _certain_ it had been rolled up at the foot of the bed. Now it was folded.

He stared at the fur blanket, willing it back into the little roll he had seen earlier.

 _I must be losing my damned mind,_ he thought.

Sighing, he grabbed the clothes from his suitcase and went into the shower.

***

The pipes gurgled and poured that iron-ore rustwater as he waited for things to heat up. The place had always had decent hot water and electricity, old-fashioned though it was.

Finally, the water ran clear again and Dean stepped into the shower.

He was immediately soothed. There was always something about the shower, and the steam, hiding him from the world, that made him feel safe. 

He soaped himself up, relaxing into the spray, and closed his eyes.

_Something's wrong._

Dean's eyes flew open.

Years of life on the road had honed his instincts, a gut feeling he learned the hard way he should never ignore.

"Hello?" he said, feeling stupid. He hadn't heard anything.

He stuck his head out into the kitchen area and looked around the cabin. It was small enough he could see pretty much everything, including the end of his parents' bed.

There was nothing there. The wind was blowing, the sun was shining, the birds were singing in the trees. It was a totally normal day.

 _That feeling is **never** wrong, _thought Dean.

Reluctantly, he went back under the water again.

He left the door open this time.

Scrubbing his hair with shampoo, he rinsed it off when suddenly the water went dark.

"Damn it!" he swore. "Fucking iron ore."

But the water wasn't rust-orange.

It had turned a dark, crimson-red.

"What the hell?" Dean said.

Then it started to come out in black-red, awful globs splattering the floor and the walls.

Dean shouted, falling out of the shower and hit the floor, _hard --_

He stared up at perfectly-clear water, still hot, pouring from the silver showerhead and into the drain.

Blinking and wincing at the pain from his fall, he hobbled to his feet and reached into the shower, turning the handle.

He examined the floor and the walls. Nothing, just normal water drying in the light warmth of the day.

"What the hell," Dean whispered again.

***

After drying himself off, Dean put on his best jeans and a black t-shirt, shrugging a red flannel shirt over his shoulders. In Minnesota, layers were important; even the hottest summer day could turn on you. Weather in the state was nothing to take lightly, and so Dean wore what he considered the "Minnesota uniform", favored by men and women across the northern part of the state. The jeans were necessary because you never knew what kind of physical activity you'd get up to and they protected the skin. 

He put his shitkickers on and picked up the toolbox near the entrance. 

_Something_ had happened in the shower, and he was going to find out what.

***

Dean hiked further up the hill, to where the well was located. Water collected in the catchment flowed down to the cabins and houses but each individual house usually also had a well. Why it was up the hill, Dean had always been hazy on, but he assumed that whatever water was available was somehow easier to access. Maybe because of bedrock, he wasn't certain, but the place _had_ been empty for a long time and anything could've gotten into the well. He grimaced when he thought about the fact that he'd been drinking coffee from there. He'd had the presence of mind to pick up some big bottles of water from the Willow Store but as Dad used to say _a little iron ore never hurt anybody_ , and Dean's desire to be the Real Man he had always at least played on TV had led him to believe that it was what a real outdoorsman would do.

 _Real outdoorsmen worry about things like leptospirosis,_ his mind supplied helpfully.

 _Just what I need, to be scolded by myself,_ he responded.

Wow. Maybe he _was_ losing it.

He found the well. 

It was deep in the forest, away from the view of the lake. Ginger pine needles made a carpet over it and underneath his feet, soft and inviting. The strong pine smell up here was always --

_The smell._

_What is that **smell?**_

Dean sniffed the air delicately. He made a face.

"Ugh," he said aloud. So something _had_ died up here.

Strange, though. The well was shut up tight, the boards still padlocked. Dean glanced down at the useless toolkit. He thought he'd need to put things back together, but everything seemed normal.

Apart from the smell, that was.

Well, there was nothing else for it.

It's not like he could call his dad to clean out the well.

Steeling himself, Dean put the key in the padlock and the lock came free with a _clunk_ in his hand.

He flipped the board up and over and peered into the well in the shaded light of the afternoon sun.

There was a head floating in the water.

Dean stumbled backwards with a yell. 

Panting in terror, he went back to look again.

Sure enough, there it was, face-down, long blonde hair drifting up and out.

_It's a woman._

Dean's heart stopped.

He knew --

He knew who it was.

There was something in his throat, terror, tears --

"Mom?"

_There were whispers, whispers in the woods,_

_he'd tried to tell Dad, but he wouldn't listen --_

Dean blinked.

There was nothing in the water at all.

Just normal, clear, Minnesota water, dark in the shade of the pines.

The smell was gone, too.

"Oh my God," said Dean. "Fuck."

He slammed the well shut and locked it, running down the hill until he had to stop and fall to his knees, retching into some bushes near the treeline.

He wiped his mouth and then cast a glance behind himself.

_The toolbox._

"Fuck that," he said, and resolutely walked out into the sunshine.

He stood there in the sunlight, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

 _This place is haunted,_ flitted across his consciousness. _Maybe you should just go._

Dean rubbed his face. He tried to concentrate on the things he could feel, see, hear.

The sun on his face, the scent of the grass in the wind, the buzzing of the bees in the flowers.

He counted backwards from ten, feeling his heart right itself from the crazy sideways gallop.

 _I don't have anywhere else to go,_ was the first clear thought he'd had.

Sam had been right about one thing: the world had changed. Motels were too expensive, gas was too expensive, and he'd been squeezed out of his chosen lifestyle by the tourist trade wanting a slice of that American road life but without all the cracked-wall, cockroach-ridden, lonely, lonely, _lonely_ reality of the thing. And with the gentrification of the road, Dean and other drifters like him were forced to find another option.

Unfortunately, most drifters were around his age, and after several decades of this kind of life, they didn't really know another. Relics of the past with no hope for a future.

And while Dean had been _technically_ homeless in the past, it was mainly by choice, and his home was the American road.

Now that he was unable to even make enough money to support himself, he was _truly_ homeless.

So it wasn't entirely true that he'd decided _it was time_ to come back to the family cabin, but a necessity. 

For the first time in his life, Dean had to live out of the Impala. He'd used every trick he knew, but he had to face reality in the end. He was getting older, and he needed a roof over his head. 

He'd landed on the option of the family cabin, which was more than most drifters would have open to them as an option. He didn't really think he'd be able to create a new kind of career for himself. He was completely out of touch with everything, he was terrible at school, and he'd always preferred to work with his hands.

He had a momentary image of his grandfather Samuel shouting at him so loud his entire head had turned red because Dean couldn't answer the math flashcards he'd been using to test Dean's math skills. " _You're not even_ _ **trying!** " his grandfather had roared, as Mary tried to get Samuel to calm down. "Mary, your son is wasting my goddamn time!"_

Funny thing was, Dean had stared and stared at those damned flashcards. For _years._ And they just looked like runes to him. He knew what numbers were, of course; he could count on his fingers. But the times/division flashcards still held no meaning for him, even now.

Sam was the smart one. That's why Sam had a flashy job in California. A house. A family.

Dean should probably fall to the ground and kiss it because his dad had seen fit to leave the cabin to his more wayward son. But Dean doubted that either of his parents had envisioned the difficult economic future faced by all Americans at this point. The news always blamed it on millennials or some shit, but Dean was one of the many other Americans who had fallen through the gaps. He didn't have to look very far to see that an hourly wage staying stagnant for the 20 years he'd been on the road while rents and house prices shot through the roof equaled worse-than-third-world, work-til-you-die situations for Americans of any age.

 _The only people who don't see the problem are the **I got mine** crowd, _thought Dean angrily. _How hard it is for everybody, even people with good jobs, living in cars like me even if they work for the California bigwigs. Hell, Sam's only got his place because he got in at the drop of the market._

The anger at his situation was oddly making him feel better. Nothing like the frustration of a classism Americans pretended not to have, but was evident anytime he spoke in his working-class Midwestern accent, to get those fires inside him stoked.

 _Better a haunted house than no house at all,_ Dean decided. _I know people who'd kill for this setup. Hell, I'm one of them._

He set off down the hill toward the cabin. No _way_ some ghosts were going to chase him out of here. No bad memories, no monsters, _nothing_ was going to take this place away from him. There was a lot of work to be done, getting the place winterized. The ghosts were just going to have to move over and make some fucking room, because he was _staying put._

Dean paused on the staircase up to the screen porch.

 _Damn_ that sixth-sense of his.

He turned around and looked down at the lake.

There was a man standing on the dock.


	4. The Man on the Dock

Dean was, above all, a man of action.

Well, of stupid action, but action nevertheless.

He ran down to the water, shouting HEY! the entire way, nearly falling flat on his face.

The man on the dock was standing there with his head tilted toward the sun as if Dean hadn't just made the equivalent of an explosion of dynamite in the sense of a public disturbance.

" _HEY!_ " shouted Dean, finally falling on his ass right at the water's edge.

The man on the dock was shirtless.

The shadows of the shoulderblades on his strong back reminded Dean strangely of wings.

The man's arms were stretched out, palms up, as if he were waiting for something to fall into them from the sky.

 _He looks like he's praying,_ thought Dean.

"Hey! Weirdo!" Dean yelled again. 

He cast about himself until he found a round rock about the size of his palm, and lobbed it toward the man.

It missed him entirely, but the resounding splash made the man open his eyes and look around.

He stared straight at Dean.

The words of protest died on his tongue.

_That's the hottest guy I've ever seen in my **life**._

"Oh, hello," said the man.

"Hello?" parroted Dean, the little spell broken. He got to his feet. "Buddy, I was _screaming_ at you."

"My apologies," said the man, and _oh,_ that whisky-and-gravel voice was doing things to Dean. "I can be a little -- _distant_ \-- when I'm. When I'm. Uh."

He dropped his arms to his sides.

"Well whatever the fuck you're doing, you gotta do it somewhere else," said Dean. "This is my property."

"Your property?" asked the man. "I thought it was abandoned."

"Were _you_ in my cabin?" demanded Dean, now pissed off again. He got up, grumbling at the grass stains on his nice jeans. 

"Cabin?" asked the man, puzzled.

"Yeah, up there!" Dean pointed to where the cabin was barely visible as the leaves of the trees moved in the wind.

"Oh," said the man. "No. I live. Uh. Elsewhere."

Dean was pretty rattled, but he had to know.

"Nearby?" he asked. "Anything weird happening around here, by any chance?"

He walked onto the dock and up to the man, to see if he was likely to win in a fight. He sure wasn't about to trust some weirdo around here, especially given the events of the day.

Dean's hard exterior faltered as he approached the guy on the dock.

 _Man, those eyes are_ **BLUE,** thought Dean. 

_Like the ocean._

_Like the power and the storms at sea._

He half-expected to see lightning reflected there. 

But the man just looked at him, clear blue eyes and, as Dean was close enough to see him in detail, a deceptively-strong body. 

Dean was no longer certain he'd win in a fight against this guy.

The thought made him shiver with something that definitely was not fear.

_Okay. Okay. Steady. This is so not the time._

"I didn't realize anyone was out here," said the man, and he did look contrite. "I'll leave you alone."

"Well, I mean," said Dean, wondering why he was suddenly so reluctant to let this guy go and suspicious that he had one really good reason. "You don't have to go. I've just come back to the area after years away. I sorta grew up here. Summer kid. You know."

"Yes," said the man vaguely.

Dean put out a hand.

"Dean Winchester," he said.

The man looked at his hand curiously. Those big blue eyes flicked up to Dean's.

_They're like those little blue flowers Mom used to --_

Dean clamped down on any further thoughts about his mother.

"It's, um," said Dean. "My name."

 _Is this guy foreign or something?_ he wondered.

"Oh," said the man. "I'm Castiel."

Dean waited, then raised an eyebrow.

"Castiel what?" he prompted.

"Just Castiel," said the man. 

"Okay," said Dean. This was getting weirder by the minute.

But he _really_ liked those eyes.

And sue him. He was lonely.

"Castiel," said Dean. "I've got some food and coffee up at the cabin. You want some lunch? I'm kind of new here. Should be hospitable to my neighbors."

"That would be _wonderful,_ " said Castiel, and the man's smile would have caused a lesser man a reconsideration of his religion.

"This way," said Dean, and Castiel followed him up the hill to the cabin.

***

_What the fuck are you doing? This guy could be a serial killer!_

_Uh huh. From the guy who just had a hallucination of his dead mother in the well!_

"It's nice," said Castiel, looking around the screen porch. "Do you live here?"

"Uh, not here," chuckled Dean. He opened the front door. "This is my cabin. I just came up here for the first time in years."

_This is like, Drifter Rule #1 you're breaking, asshole._

_Never let anybody know where you are!_

Dean pushed the warning bells inside his head down and grit his teeth.

He knew this was insane and stupid.

 _Especially_ given his gut feeling that morning.

But Dean really didn't want to be alone right now.

And he _desperately_ wanted Castiel to stay.

He was already dreading nightfall.

Ignoring his inner turmoil, he pushed past Castiel, who was standing uncertainly in the little lounge area.

"You like salami and cheese sandwiches?" Dean asked. "I got Miracle Whip, or you could have butter. You gotta make 'em with like, these rolls, they're like hamburger buns but kinda sweet? We used to have them all the time when I was up here as a kid --"

 _Jeez Louise, motormouth,_ Dean thought, but the whole situation was so strange and he didn't really get a lot of opportunities to talk to people, especially people who looked like Castiel.

He forced his anxiety away and finally asked the man a question about himself.

"So, are you a year-rounder?" he asked.

"What?" asked Castiel, as if he had been drifting away on a cloud while staring at Dean the entire time. 

_Creepy,_ Dean thought. _Intense._

 _Like a stalker, maybe?_ said the smarter part of his brain that sounded an awful lot like Sam.

"Do you live here year-round?" asked Dean.

"Hm? Oh! Yes. I do."

"Takes a certain type," said Dean, handing him a sandwich. "You, uh. Didn't say if you wanted it with Miracle Whip or butter, so I just made it how I like it."

Castiel looked down at the sandwich and then up at Dean with a grateful expression that Dean might've worn if someone had just given him a mind-blowing --

 _Not going there!_ yelled his inner voice, hitting those metaphorical brakes.

 _Boy, those are some blue eyes,_ he thought.

"Thank you, Dean," he said.

He just stood there with the sandwich as if he had no idea what to do with it now that he had it.

"Go ahead and eat it," said Dean. "I won't mind. I already ate."

Castiel took a tiny bite.

"It's good," he said, and then quickly asked, "So you only come here in summer?"

"Nah, not since I was a kid," said Dean. "I'm just putting the place back together now. It's been years."

"I'm sorry for using your dock," said Castiel.

"Nah, you know what?" he asked. "You come on by whenever you like and use it if you want. I'm new around here and could use some friends."

 _You could've used some friends for the last several years,_ thought Dean. _God, you're pathetic._

"That's very kind of you," said Castiel.

He stopped suddenly, tilting his head and squinting.

"I have to go," he said. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Dean."

"You -- wait, really?" Dean said, confused. "Why?"

"I...got a call," said Castiel. 

"I didn't see a phone," said Dean.

 _Shut up, idiot, he's trying to get himself out of here politely_.

Dean's brain was a bastard, sometimes.

"It's, I, my phone's on vibrate!" said Castiel. "Thank you for the sandwich. I'll stop by again soon."

"How about tomorrow night?" asked Dean.

_Oh my God, shut the hell up!_

Dean studiously ignored that inner voice.

Castiel froze in the act of walking out the door.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Yeah," said Dean. "I mean, I gotta clean out the sauna first, so -- you like saunas? You want to share the first one of the year with me?"

Castiel looked tempted, but then he was out the door.

"I'll think about it!" he called over his shoulder, and then he had disappeared into the trees.

"Weird little guy," said Dean fondly.

_Whoa. Okay there. Hold up. Don't even think about it._

"I ain't thinkin' about anything," he said out loud.

Then he saw the sandwich he'd given Castiel, sitting alone on its plate with a tiny bite out of it.

Dean sighed.

"Guess I'm not great at making sandwiches," he said.

He picked it up and took a bite.

"What am I saying? This is delicious," he said, and promptly stuffed his face.

***

He went down to work on the sauna after that, as an excuse to work off all the sandwiches.

He was going to run out of food sooner rather than later if he kept this up.

Luckily, the sauna was in better condition than the cabin, so it just needed a good cleanout and it was ready. He'd get it set up for the following evening, and try not to get his hopes up that his weird neighbor would show up again.

 _Always was a sucker for blue eyes,_ he thought. 

The loons called. The world turned lavender.

As much as he wanted to avoid it, he trudged back up to the cabin.

Curling up in his favorite chair, he grabbed the old weatherbeaten copy of _Jaws,_ and eventually fell asleep.

***

_His mother lifted her head from the well._

_Her eyes were dead and hollow_

**_dead eyes, like a doll's eyes_ **

_Her mouth gaped wide and she had so many teeth_

***

Dean shouted himself awake to find he'd never left his chair.

 _Jaws_ had fallen onto the floor beside him.

"I am _never_ reading that book or watching that movie _ever_ again."

"Why not?"

Dean shouted again as he saw Castiel standing in front of him.

"What the -- You can't just come in here!"

"The door was open."

"No it wasn't. I shut it and locked it last night!"

"I assure you that this door was open," Castiel said. "I would have waited on the screen porch but you started shouting."

Dean rubbed a hand across his face.

"Okay," he said. "Well, even _if_ the door is open, you can't come in here! That's, that's _normal,_ Cas!"

"Cas?" said the man, tilting his head again.

"Castiel. Whatever," said Dean.

"I like Cas," said Castiel.

"Okay," Dean sighed. "Anyway. What are you doing here?"

"You invited me," said Castiel. "You said I could come byanytime."

"I thought you had to go," said Dean.

"I did," said Castiel. "But I wanted to come back."

Dean huffed a little, wrapping his arms around himself.

"Why are you wearing a trenchcoat in the summertime?" he asked.

Castiel looked down at it as if he were faintly surprised to find that he was, in fact, wearing one.

"I felt it would be more appropriate than the state of undress you found me in yesterday," said Castiel.

"You talk like a book," said Dean, standing up and stretching. "Anybody ever tell you that?"

"Like the book you will never read again?" asked Castiel.

Dean laughed.

"No, not like _Jaws,_ " he said. "Damn thing gave me nightmares and it's like fifty years old."

"You could have nightmares about even older things than that," said Cas helpfully.

"Thanks, Cas," said Dean. "Since you're here at the crack of dawn --"

"It's ten in the morning," said Castiel.

"Would you like some coffee?" Dean said, exasperated.

"If you think it will help."

"Believe me, buddy," said Dean. "Right now, it's the only thing that can."


	5. The Sauna

The morning had been a pleasant one, although Dean could see stormclouds on the horizon above the lake.

"You want to hang out here, I'm okay with that," said Dean in a voice he hoped sounded casual.

Castiel had brushed past him on the way into the cabin and it felt like every hair on his entire body stood on end. 

_Remember what Dad said about addiction,_ said a tiny voice inside him.

Dean was getting tired of that voice. But there hadn't been many others on the road with him. He liked his own company, sure, but there was something about Castiel that made him want to stick around.

Which was a new thing, in Dean's experience. The second he started to catch feelings he was usually out and down the highway at least fifty miles away.

But he watched as Castiel looked at the old books on the shelf, reading some of the titles out loud.

"This is an extensive library," said Castiel. "I am not familiar with these books."

Dean's jaw dropped.

"You're not familiar with _Jaws_?" asked Dean.

"No. And given your reaction to it this morning, I am very glad for it," said Castiel seriously.

"You're pullin' my leg. Really?"

"Really."

So Dean just watched him go through the books as he stood there and drank his coffee. The air was growing a little colder as the wind blew outside, and Dean thought about the feasibility of installing a fireplace. It would come in handy over the winter.

Mostly, though, he just watched Castiel's curious expression as he touched the individual volumes with reverence.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" murmured Castiel. "People create all these little universes. They're like their Father that way."

"Father?" asked Dean. 

"Yes. God," said Castiel.

Oh. The guy was a religious nut. 

Dean tried not to feel immense disappointment.

"That said, they have a problem with judging each other, which God also said was reserved for Him alone, so I suppose that's the danger of free will," said Castiel. "There is much hateful bigotry here. But also so much love."

Tentatively, Dean's hopes began to rise again. Maybe the guy had been raised in a religious family or something and disagreed with them for some reason --

_You know exactly the reason you hope he disagreed with them._

_After all, it's pretty much your story too._

"So what do you say?" Dean said again. Castiel turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow and _damn_ if that didn't make Dean think even more things he probably shouldn't. "Uh. About weathering the storm here. With me."

_Man. First it's "do you want to sauna together" and now "do you want to weather the storm with me". He's gotta know how that sounds._

"I'd be delighted," said Castiel. "Thank you."

He stood up from the bookshelf and took off the trenchcoat, hanging it on one of the wall pegs by the door. He turned to Dean, whose grip on his mug tightened and his heart leapt into his throat as Castiel stalked closer.

"Your restroom?" he asked, and all Dean could think was _blue blue blue blue_.

"Over there," he managed to whisper, pointing behind himself.

Castiel nodded and moved past him. Dean blew out a breath.

_Jesus. Get it together. Keep it in your pants. You're acting like an idiot teenager around this guy!_

Dean went to the linen closet and pulled out a few of the boxes, setting them onto the living room floor. He _had_ to take his mind off this guy or he might wind up doing something stupid like try to kiss him.

A few moments later, Castiel emerged from the bathroom and came to sit down beside him.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Boxes of old stuff," Dean explained. "My dad left me this place when he passed, and I've been getting it cleaned out."

Castiel said nothing more, just watched as Dean pulled various items out of the boxes, labeling them trash or to save. Most of it was trash.

Then Dean pulled a dreamcatcher out of the box. He held it in his hand and smiled.

"A dreamcatcher," said Castiel. "This has some significance?"

"Yeah," said Dean. "The local band of Anishinaabeg used to sell these, maybe they still do. Like I said, I haven't been up here in years. Anyway, Sammy - that's my little brother - bought me this one. He said they used my favorite colors and the stones that were important to me."

It was blue-gray and white, with multiple feathers hanging down. The beading was black and white apart from one larger green stone.

"The bad dreams get caught in the web," explained Dean, "so only the good dreams drip through the feathers and, I don't know, land on your forehead or something, when you sleep."

Dean put it onto the _trash_ pile. Castiel placed a hand on his, and Dean froze, feeling their connection like his whole body was only aware of the warmth of the other man's hand on his own.

"Why are you putting it into the trash?" he asked gently. "This isn't trash, Dean."

"Stupid superstitious mumbo jumbo," he muttered. 

"But you have nightmares."

"Never stopped the kind of nightmares I have, Cas," said Dean, refusing to look at the other man.

"But it's a gift of love," said Castiel. "That is what makes the protection. The people of this area knew that."

"Well, now it's commercialized garbage," said Dean. "Whatever magic these used to have, people stole it."

Castiel stared at him. From a few inches away, this was more mind-blowing than Dean could have imagined.

"But this one isn't," he said. "This one is real."

"Real how?" asked Dean.

Castiel took it from him gently.

"Where is your bed?"

Dean had to explain to some other parts of himself that this was not leading where he hoped.

"Up there." 

He pointed.

"Come with me."

He held out a hand, and Dean reluctantly put his own in it. He shuddered pleasantly at the contact, but managed to keep a lid on things.

Castiel led him up to the bedroom and Dean gestured towards his own bed.

Sure enough, there was still a nail above the bed where the dreamcatcher used to be.

Castiel hung it reverently there. Then he turned to Dean, as the rain began to fall outside.

"Leave it there," he said softly. "For the nights when I cannot be here to save you from your dreams."

Dean stared into those blue, blue eyes and was absolutely speechless.

He licked his lips.

"Promise me, Dean."

He nodded.

"I promise."

Castiel smiled at him and squeezed his hand.

Then he dropped it, and walked back out into the kitchen area, leaving Dean confused and out of sorts.

As soon as the moment had begun, it was over.

But Dean left the dreamcatcher on its little nail above the bed.

***

The storm was wilder than he'd anticipated, but the cabin stayed snug and dry.

"So, what's your story?" asked Dean, sitting down in his chair as Castiel stared out the window at the storm.

"What do you mean?" asked Castiel, turning toward him.

"Where are you from, what's your family like, that kinda thing?" Dean prompted. 

"Oh," said Castiel. "I'm from another -- it's far away."

"Thought so," said Dean proudly. "Castiel isn't a name you hear much around this area. But I ain't like those bigots you were talkin' about before, Cas. No need to be ashamed of being an immigrant. Hell, my family were immigrants, too."

"Thank you," said Castiel, sitting down on the couch. "My family and I aren't close."

"Religious?" Dean asked. Castiel nodded, and Dean grinned again. "Guessed right twice, huh."

"I'm a soldier."

Now Dean was surprised and also ridiculously excited. 

_Something about a man in uniform, always does it for me,_ he thought.

"Oh. Guess that's why you're a year-rounder up here," said Dean. "Peaceful."

Castiel glanced outside as the sky lit up with lightning.

"Yes," he agreed. "Far more than home."

"You grew up in a war zone?"

"You could say that."

Castiel smiled at him, and Dean's heart did a funny little flip.

"Thank you for offering me sanctuary in your home," he said. "Thunderstorms are -- well. For someone who grew up in a war zone, they aren't easy."

If Dean's libido had just received some interesting information, now his heart had done the same.

"No problem, bud," was the eloquent phrase that came out of his mouth. "Anytime."

"You're a good man, Dean," said Castiel.

They stared at each other for such a long time Dean was suddenly unsure of himself. He could feel his cheeks heating up under the scrutiny, and cursed his heritage again.

"Do you think that the weather will improve in time for us to sauna?" Castiel asked pleasantly out of nowhere.

"I? Uh," said Dean, snapping out of it.

_It's like you're hypnotized. Pull yourself together, Winchester._

"Maybe?" he managed.

"If the wind keeps up, the storm should blow out of here by nightfall," said Castiel. "I think that would give us sufficient time."

Dean both wanted to sauna with this man more than anything in the world and also not to sauna with him because it might kill him. He'd already noticed more of Castiel than he had noticed of anyone in years. The column of his throat. The permanent five o'clock shadow. The exotic look of his face, something Middle Eastern or Mediterranean in him. 

"Guess we'll have to see," Dean coughed.

***

Castiel was right, as it turned out. The evening was warm, and the sky was clear.

Stars reflected on the still waters of the lake. The loons called softly in the night.

Dean put the wood into the stove and lit it. 

"We'll have to give it a little while to warm up," he explained to Castiel.

"You're good with your hands," Castiel told him.

Dean blushed under the praise.

"Thanks, but it ain't much," said Dean. "It's lighting a fire, Cas."

"Such things were what brought humanity out of the darkness," Castiel said.

Dean laughed.

"Yeah, in the stone age, maybe," said Dean. "These days, firebuilding isn't exactly up there on the list of reasons somebody would pay you a hundred grand a year or more."

"Then they're wrong," said Castiel earnestly. "Taking care of this place as you are doing, building fires, just _building_ \-- it's what humanity was meant to do."

"Yeah, tell that to the Fortune 500 CEOs," said Dean. "None of that shit is valued, Cas. People are living on the street, in their cars, even with the huge salaries. Even the ones who can build things with their hands."

"A tragedy."

"Damn straight."

Dean put his hands in his back pockets and looked out at the lake in the darkness, reflecting the stars.

"Hey Cas," he said. "Do you like s'mores?"

***

Dean couldn't say his father would approve of making s'mores using the sauna fire, but he figured needs must and didn't feel like building another one. He laughed watching Castiel try to eat his and getting all sticky.

"Well, there's one solution for that," said Dean. "Time to use this sauna as a sauna."

"Okay," said Castiel. "What do we do?"

Dean narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean, what do we do?" he said. "Don't tell me that you've lived here all your life and you've never taken a sauna?"

A cloud passed over Castiel's amused expression. He looked at the floor.

"Right," said Dean. "Religious upbringing. Well, we sit here and heat up, pretty much. You can beat each other with birch branches --"

Castiel's eyes widened.

"--but I mean, you don't _have_ to," Dean said hurriedly. "You take the scoop here, see? And you scoop out water, throw it on the rocks to make steam. You smell that cedar smell? Yeah that's what you get with a _real_ sauna. Lotsa places like the Y have these halfassed ones using a radiator or some shit but the real deal is the wood fire, right?"

Castiel just nodded.

"And you can wear a swimsuit or, or your underwear, but I usually go nude," he explained in a rush. "I mean it's the way it was done, is done probably still in Finland, right. So. It's a bath, it means _bath_ in Finnish. And it's pronounced SOW-nah, not SAH-nah, always used to drive my dad nuts when people --"

Dean finally managed to stop the babbling inspired by his general request for Castiel to get naked.

Castiel just nodded, considering.

Then he said:

"The _saunatonttu_ is glad you have returned."

Dean stared at him.

"The what?"

"Sauna elf," explained Castiel. "He's happy to see you again."

"That Finnish or something?"

"Yes. It's popular folklore there."

Dean grinned and shook his head.

"Right," he said. "Soldier. You must've traveled a lot."

Castiel nodded.

"More than you can ever know."

"You're somethin' else, you know that, Cas?" asked Dean. "All right. Wouldn't want to keep the guy waiting any longer. You ready?"

Castiel nodded, and they went inside.


	6. An Ordinary Soul

"So what do we do now?" asked Castiel, as they sat on the sauna benches.

"Nothing," said Dean. "Talk, maybe. If you wanna be hotter, you come up onto the top bench. Cooler, down at the bottom. I always liked to sit on the top bench, even as a kid."

He smiled with pride at the memory.

Castiel clambered up onto the top bench and sat beside Dean. 

Neither of them had gotten naked, much to Dean's disappointment and also relief. 

But Castiel, even in boxer shorts, was a sight to see.

Dean tried very hard not to notice and completely failed.

"So then," he said, for something else to do than imagine other outcomes of this friendly sauna experience, "when you get so hot you can't stand it anymore, you run out the door, down the dock, and jump into the water."

"Isn't that cold?" asked Castiel.

"Well, yeah. That's the point. Something to do with your pores, I think."

He turned to Castiel.

"Hey," he said. "How come you know all this stuff about dreamcatchers and sauna elves and whatever but you don't know how to use a sauna and you've never even heard of _Jaws_?"

Castiel looked incredibly guilty. Dean couldn't imagine why.

Maybe he was lying, but what an odd thing to lie about.

"Your brother loves you, you know," said Castiel, apropos of nothing.

"Sam? Maybe when he had that thing made for me. Now?" Dean laughed without humor.

"Yes. Even now."

"I really can't figure you out," said Dean.

"I think I'm ready," said Castiel. "Too hot."

"Okay," said Dean, dropping the third-degree for the moment. "Ready? One. Two. Three!"

He burst out of the sauna and ran like hell for the dock, always a little freaked about biffing it and knocking himself out. But he made it to the end and sailed into the air above the lake. It looked like he was about to fall into the night sky.

Then _splash_ \-- and the world was deep, and quiet.

And _cold!_

He surfaced spluttering and yelling his head off just as Castiel landed a cannonball next to him and splashed him again.

"Hey!" laughed Dean, as Castiel surfaced, treading stars. "No fair! No cannonballs!"

"I don't think you make the rules."

"Is that so."

They treaded water, smiling at each other beneath the bright summer stars. Now that he'd been in the lake for a little while, it wasn't really that cold anymore.

He pushed forward in the water, a little. He could see the individual water droplets on Castiel's lips, and he ached to taste them.

Suddenly, Castiel swam away. Dean felt it like a slap in the face.

"I have to go," said Castiel.

"What? Wait," said Dean. "We haven't even finished our sauna!"

"Please enjoy it without me," said Castiel, hurrying back up the dock and into the darkness. "I'll see you soon, Dean. I promise."

Dean just stared after him, cursing himself.

 _You probably just freaked the hell out of a straight guy,_ he admonished himself. _And one with a crazy family. A soldier. Don't ask, don't tell wasn't that long ago._

_You think you have hangups._

_Man._

***

Despite feeling like it was a waste, Dean decided to let the sauna fire go out instead of returning to it. 

"You got enough to eat, little buddy?" he asked aloud.

Then he shook himself.

"Damn, now you're talking to sauna elves," he said. "You _really_ need to make some friends."

How he was meant to do that while living at the back of beyond, he wasn't sure.

But he was going to make the best of it, because it was the only home he had available.

He walked back up the hill to the cabin, enjoying the delicious feeling of the soft wind on his skin. He always did love summer. It was the Minnesota winter he'd never been able to get used to. It wasn't right, people living in such a hostile climate.

Maybe he should fix the cabin up and sell it. Buy something in a city. 

_You know. Where there are **people.** Who you might be able to date. Instead of some weird guy you caught doing some kind of spiritual God-knows-what on the end of your dock. It's not **normal.**_

That voice didn't sound like Sam. 

That voice sounded like Dad.

Dean sighed.

He knew he would have to read the journal soon. It was partly the reason he'd come back here, after all. He kept putting it off, but it seemed like his subconscious was telling him it was time.

_That, or the property's haunted._

He went back into the bedroom and turned on the light. 

_Your brother loves you, you know._

_Sam? Maybe when he had that thing made for me. Sure. Nowadays?_

_He loves you._

Dean smiled, and touched the little strings of yarn and beaded feathers of the dreamcatcher.

He sighed. He really wished that Cas was right.

How the hell was Cas so certain, anyway?

How had he climbed into his heart and made a place for himself there?

That was when he noticed it.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't noticed before.

A long, colorful feather was laid out on the bed, with a scrap of paper sitting next to it.

Dean lifted the feather. It was enormous, blue-green, with multiple "eyes". It reminded him of the tailfeather of a peacock, but it was much stronger and firmer, more solid. He'd never seen anything like it before in his life.

He picked up the scrap of paper. 

- _For your bad dreams_ , it said, in a kind of calligraphic writing he'd only seen in movies about ancient history, the kind that looked like it was written with a quill pen.

Dean smiled. He'd have to ask Cas what type of bird this feather had come from. It was singularly beautiful.

He set the feather on the little shelf next to his bed, and fell asleep.

***

_The sun was shining, warm and beautiful, down on the lake._

_Castiel was kneeling at the end of the dock._

_He had wings._

_He was moaning, pulling frantically at his own feathers, his back slick with something that looked like suntan oil._

_All of this seemed perfectly natural to Dean, who lightly dropped into his lap._

_Castiel stared up at him with those blue, blue eyes and gasped._

_"Your soul," he said, and let out a filthy sob of a moan, as if he was saying something very wrong but in a good way. "Your soul."_

_Dean was rock-hard, and completely naked._

_"It's just an ordinary soul, Cas," he said, and took both of their cocks in his hand._

_Castiel looked at him as if he were seeing the sun for the first time._

_Everything was so warm, and beautiful, and filled with such intense love that Dean was sobbing, desperate and animal in his need._

_Castiel arched up against him, those gorgeous wings flaring out --_

_wings that looked a little like the feather he had left on Dean's bed._

_"That's it," Dean murmured. "Come on, sweetheart."_

_He leaned back on his hands and stared down at their cocks, wailing as he came all over himself._

_Dean was not far behind._

_They stayed there, together, just staring at each other, as the sunlight warmed the earth and the sky above it._

***

Dean woke slowly, a smile on his face.

He was drowsy and content like he hadn't been for a very long time.

Then he became aware that he had a situation going on that would need the shower.

 _Damn,_ he thought. _I ain't fourteen anymore. This is new._

He got out of bed gingerly and cast a look at the feather sitting innocuously beside him.

Then he made his way into the next room and the shower, reminding himself that the situation with the well was a hallucination.

Under the spray of the shower, which didn't do anything weird this time, Dean thought about his dream. It had been so real, but of course that was the way of dreams. 

Still, he hadn't felt better when waking up in _years_.

He got out of the shower and toweled himself off, whistling as he slid into his jeans.

Maybe today he'd take a look at insulating the place. Sure, it was summer now, but by wintertime -- 

He stopped with one foot about to step down from the bedroom into the kitchen area.

Slowly, he turned his head to the side.

Toward his parents' room.

_The blanket's moved again._

Now it was spread across the bed, wrinkled up a little as if someone had gotten up in a hurry.

"What the fuck is going _on_?" he muttered to himself.

Then, it came to him. There was only one reasonable explanation.

Castiel had never mentioned where he lived, just that he was a "year-rounder".

Maybe he'd been living in the cabin all this time? He said himself that he thought it was abandoned.

_But the place was full of spiderwebs and dust when I got here. He couldn't have planned that._

Still. If Castiel was homeless, just like Dean, maybe he'd made a home out here where he didn't think anybody would come looking? And he knew that Dean hated this room, avoided it if he could. If he were at all perceptive -- and Dean knew that he was at least that, if nothing else.

He should feel creeped out. After all, the idea of a man hiding in the corner of a room until you go to bed isn't exactly comforting.

Yet Dean felt comforted all the same. Maybe the place wasn't haunted after all.

Maybe he wasn't going crazy.

Well, apart from the whole "acceptance of a homeless man hiding in my house" thing.

***

Two days passed before Castiel showed up again at the door. Dean had stayed away from his parents' bedroom this time as a way to keep out of his business. He figured that he could bring it up when Castiel showed his face again.

As far as the dream was concerned, although it had inspired a few other shower sessions, he chalked it up to the kind of thing that happens when a guy has gone without for too long. 

"Hey, Cas," said Dean. "I gotta talk to you about something."

"Of course, Dean," said Castiel. "You know I love the time we spend together."

Dean's heart went into overdrive, but he ignored it.

"Look," he said. "I know that you're staying in the other bedroom."

Castiel stared at him, puzzled.

"That's a very kind offer, Dean, but I don't need --"

"It ain't charity," said Dean. "I just wanted to let you know, I don't mind. I know you've been staying here and we may as well not tiptoe around each other. I could use the company anyway, and hell if I don't know that it's tough out there right now. Hard enough to get a job, harder still to have a roof over your head."

Castiel was staring at Dean as if it were some kind of competitive Olympic sport.

"I assure you," he said harshly. "I have _never_ spent a night in this cabin!"

Dean stared back.

"But then," he said, "the fur blanket?"

"What fur blanket?"

Great. Now Dean was feeling insane again. 

But he'd started this ball rolling. He might as well let it roll right over him. He was no Indiana Jones. Even though he really, _really_ wanted to be, sometimes.

Oh, who was he kidding? _All_ the time. Who didn't want to be Indiana Jones?

He was losing the plot again. He found the thread and picked it up.

"Here," he said. "Come look."

He led Castiel up to the bedroom and pointed at the fur blanket.

"You see that?" he asked. Castiel nodded. "First day I was here, it was rolled up like a sleeping bag at the end of the bed. That's how my parents kept it."

Castiel nodded again.

"The next day, it was folded up like a square," said Dean.

"And now it's spread out like someone has been sleeping there," said Castiel.

Dean pointed at him triumphantly.

Castiel shook his head sadly.

"No," he said. "It wasn't me. I sorely wish it was."

"Then what the hell is going on around here?" asked Dean.


	7. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: I'm putting a warning here for past child abuse in Dean's history.

"I assure you, I have no idea."

Dean was pacing back and forth now.

_Does this mean someone **else** is living in here with me?_

Now the thought freezes his blood. Of course.

"You thought I was _living in your spare bedroom?_ " asked Castiel, finally getting with the program.

"I, uh," said Dean. _Oh, shit. Shit shit shit shit this is bad --_

"And you were _okay with that?_ " Castiel said, his eyes wide.

Dean's shoulders sagged.

"Look, man," he said. "Things are rough out there. Maybe it's weird. I don't know. I just didn't want to kick you to the curb. You know?"

Castiel nodded, but as if he didn't really understand.

"You need to take better care of yourself," he said. "I could be anybody."

Dean laughed.

"Sam used to say the same thing," he said.

"I believe you mentioned that your brother is a genius," Castiel pointed out.

Dean nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "But look, Cas -- something _weird_ is going on here."

"I concur," said Castiel. "Dean, I absolutely hate to do this to you right now, but I had stopped by to tell you that I would be gone for -- for a while."

"A while," repeated Dean. He suddenly felt hollow in his chest.

_I've been alone for years and now this guy leaving for a **while** is like the end of the world._

_Sure do get attached quick these days. Maybe it's old age setting in._

"Yes," said Castiel. "I stopped by to let you know. Just so you don't worry."

"But you'll be back?" asked Dean, hating the words the moment they left his mouth.

Castiel beamed.

"Of course," he said.

"Look, when you get back," Dean said in a rush. "You want to go up to the Willow Store with me? Get some beers, maybe go to the diner? They got some awesome burgers."

"I've never been," said Castiel.

Now Dean was really suspicious.

"You've never been to the Willow Store," he said flatly. "But you lived here all your life."

"My family prefers to bulk buy," said Castiel with an absolutely straight face. "In one of the towns."

Dean scratched his head. Something was off here, those alarm bells were sounding again.

_If your dick gets you killed, you'll only have yourself to blame, asshole._

"Okay," said Dean, pressing on. "Well, if you haven't been, you _gotta_ try their ice cream cones. Out of this world, man. Just spectacular. And we can get a bottle of rum or something, sit on the porch and -- and talk."

"And sauna again?" asked Castiel, an unmistakable note of hope in his voice.

If Dean was an idiot before, he had never known the true heights of idiocy until this moment.

"Yeah, sure, of course," he said, grinning. "Anything."

"Thank you, Dean," said Castiel. "I will see you soon."

"Bye, Cas," said Dean, trying to sound nonchalant.

He went to the fridge to get sandwich fixings, just to prove to himself that he wasn't totally gone on this weird guy.

By the time he stood up, he couldn't see him anywhere; he looked out of all the windows and the doors.

It was too late. Castiel was gone.

***

Dean finally stopped procrastinating and started measuring the cabin for insulation. He'd probably have to put in drywall, a pity over the beautiful Lincoln-log build of the cabin. Not that it was a thing of beauty in the first place, what with the stuck-in-the-70s decor, but the wood was beautiful and very Minnesotan. 

He also started measuring along one of the walls to see if it would be possible to put in a fireplace. Maybe a woodstove would be enough. It'd certainly be simpler.

Something fell on the floor behind him.

He turned, pencil between his teeth, still holding the measuring tape.

_Dad's journal._

He sighed.

"Every damned time I get started on this thing," he muttered. " _Fine._ What is it you're trying to tell me? If I'm gonna go absolutely batshit out here I'd like to know _why._ "

He put everything down and grabbed the journal, opening it on the kitchen table. He got up and made himself a cup of coffee, and sat down again to read.

_September 18, 1989. Something strange about this day. No idea why. Most days are strange around here. I don't even know why I'm writing this down. I suppose because I want the boys to know the truth someday._

Dean changed position in his chair. He stared at the words.

_Mary always said he was lucky we took him in, given how difficult he's always been. Dean is not our son._

***

_"Come here, you little son of a bitch!"_

_All Dean remembers is screaming._

_Thing was, John never, ever hit him. Never hit any of them._

_And John wasn't the worst of it. His mother was._

_His father was like a battering ram, barely holding himself together. But never against Mary, when Dean was involved._

_Mary, though --_

_Everything he did was wrong. He would do things wrong even before he **knew** they were wrong. She had thousands of rules and they seemed to change with the wind._

_One day, she screamed at him for drinking orange juice in too tall of a glass, after telling him that she and John never drank orange juice anyway so she didn't usually bother buying it, and did he like orange juice?_

_Strange and stupid, but he remembered feeling completely out of his mind when she screamed at him because he used the wrong kind of glass. It was just a normal juice glass._

_"Well **I** use these **smaller** glasses," she sneered at him, the implication being **because I'm not greedy, like you.**_

_He'd apologized, of course. He did a lot of apologizing._

_But Mary liked to shift the goalposts. She lied directly to his face, over and over again. He'd caught her a few times in the act, but she just acted like she was innocent. And John enabled her behavior._

_"You're just like a bottomless pit," she used to tell him in a sweet voice. "You're needy, Dean. You're too hard to love."_

_But then Dean got angry, and he couldn't control it. Furious. He never understood why, it just seemed to rise up and out of him like a volcano, like a teakettle with too much steam._

_So his parents sent him to juvie, where he spent some time. Learned how to fight, steal, and do the kinds of things that would end up earning him money on the road when no other avenues were available. Good thing, too, because after their parents died he sure as hell wasn't going to let Sam get lost in the system. He'd seen enough from the guards in juvie to know what happened to pretty young boys on the inside._

_Things that had happened to him. Not that he would ever admit it, or even think about it. That way lie madness._

_Sam, in all of this, was treated like a perfect angel. Strange, how parents had one face with one child and a completely different one with the other._

_The worst part was that Dean loved them all so much. He so badly wanted their approval. He desperately wanted his father to be proud of him, to be impressed by him._

_But he had found this was never going to be true._

_One day, he had been packing a suitcase for traveling, one his dad had given him. He put the clothes in the case and then noticed the zipper was broken. He could hear his dad coming up the stairs --_

_and see, this was why he'd never really moved back to Kansas, he couldn't suffer being in that town again, or anywhere near that house, but Sam's experiences were not Dean's, and he'd had a completely different childhood despite having the exact same parents and growing up in the exact same place--_

_John had screamed bloody murder at him, even though Dean tried to shout that he hadn't done anything, and the zipper was already broken._

_See, none of these things leave a mark. None of these things sound all that bad, not when spoken aloud. But an environment like that made Dean feel like he was impossibly worthless, his only instruction **look after Sammy, take care of Sammy.**_

_And because he loved his brother and he loved his parents, he did what he could do take care of his brother, even after his parents had died._

***

Dean saw a drop of water fall onto the journal and blot some of the ink. He drew a ragged breath as he realized he'd been crying.

It wasn't so much being adopted that he minded. He'd learned a long time ago that "family" could mean many things. _Family don't end in blood,_ his Uncle Bobby used to say, before he passed away too.

Dean started. He suddenly realized that Bobby must've known, and that was why he'd always told him that.

Dean had kept his promises, unlike John who had once tricked him into getting into the car to go for burgers and then bringing him to juvie. John, who never took him to the ocean. John, who let Mary run Dean ragged.

And now, he had a reason for it.

But honestly, he knew that there were adopted kids everywhere with loving families. 

It wasn't because he was adopted.

It was because they didn't like _him_ , specifically.

Having that pointed out directly was tough. But it was oddly freeing as well.

He wiped his eyes with his arm, the soft flannel a hurried comfort. He got up and brewed another pot of coffee, thinking he was going to be wired as hell all night long.

Thing was, while this was a revelation to him, it didn't answer the one question that he'd been wondering all his life.

His mother had died in a house fire. His father had died only a few months later, in a car crash. But there was something that had always hovered at the edge of Dean's consciousness, pulling at him, telling him that these things were not what they appeared to be on the surface. He didn't know why.

But he'd learned early on to trust his gut instincts. He'd managed to ignore it for years, until necessity forced his hand.

And something strange was going on with this cabin. He was going to find out what it was if it killed him.

He was starting to believe that it might.

***

Dean got up to use the bathroom. _Too much damned coffee,_ he thought.

It was dark now. He'd read most of the journal, but it hadn't revealed much to him. Maybe that was the only secret he needed to know.

It was a pretty life-shattering one. But not the kind of life-shattering he'd been expecting to find.

If he were honest, he had no idea what he was expecting to find.

Maybe it would just turn out to be decades-old bad memories, and an old cabin that had seen better days.

He flicked off the bathroom light and opened the door. 

There was a man standing in the doorway of his parents' bedroom.

***

" _Shit!_ " Dean yelled.

The man stepped forward. But it was just the shambling shape of a man, like a hulking, walking shadow.

Dean scrambled backwards, his ass hit the floor.

" _What have I told you about talking to your mother like that?!"_ boomed the shadow, advancing on him.

"I'm sorry!" Dean screamed. "Dad, I'm sorry!"

"Not here," chuckled the shadow-thing. "Not here _not here_ not here _not here --_ "

Dean stared up at the thing in horror.

 _"Underneath,_ " it hissed.

Then it vanished. 

Dean's eyes were wide and wild. He cast about himself for something, _anything_ to fight with, but who was he kidding? He couldn't fight against something insubstantial --

_just like you couldn't fight a woman who never put a bruise on you --_

Then there was the sound of scraping.

Dean's ears pricked up, trying to locate the sound.

It was coming from beneath the cabin.

Scraping, scraping along from the back of the bedrooms towards him, where he was sitting in the middle of the carpet --

_like fingernails sounds like_

_like fingernails on a chalkboard_

_like fingernails ripped bloody from scratching at the surface of --_

Dean shot to his feet and _ran_ to his own bedroom, he had no idea why, leaping over the place where the sounds were the loudest, tripping over the step in his haste.

The scratching stopped.

Dean stood in the threshold of the doorway despite everything in him screaming at him to run.

But run where? 

**_BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG!_ **

the front door rattled in its hinges from the wild knocking --

and this time, Dean turned tail, threw himself onto his stomach on his bed like a child who wants to hide beneath the covers, slammed one hand on the dreamcatcher and the other on the feather --

" **SAM!** " he bellowed. " **CASTIEL!** "

"Dean?"

With a huge gasp, Dean sat up from the table.

He blinked.

It was morning.

He looked down at the journal, which he had apparently drooled on in his sleep. 

Castiel was standing there, looking concerned.

Dean looked up at him, furrowing his brow.

"Cas?"

"You were shouting again," said Castiel mildly. "You should be sleeping under your dreamcatcher, you know."

Dean stood from the table and threw himself into Castiel's arms.

He began to sob, huge wracking things into Castiel's shoulder.

"Okay," said Castiel. "We need to talk."


	8. Confessions

It took Dean some time to calm the fuck down.

He realised that they were now sitting on the floor together near the bookshelf, his head cradled in Castiel's shoulder.

"Please talk to me, Dean," said Castiel, the gentle rumble of his voice like a sweet wave of reassurance.

Dean hadn't meant to. He really hadn't. He'd been a _tough guy_ for a long time. 

He'd expected to be deeply embarrassed by such an outpouring of emotion.

But something about Castiel felt _safe,_ felt _like home_ , to a boy who had never really had one.

"My parents," hiccuped Dean. "They were awful to me, Cas. I mean. They didn't, like, beat me or - or anything like that, but --"

_You're hard to love. You're lucky we took you in. You're so difficult._

So Dean told Castiel the whole story of his family, of the way they treated him, of the way they treated Sam, of how he had just found out he was adopted in the worst possible way.

Eventually, he ran out of both words and tears. He had never moved from Castiel's shoulder, using the situation as an excuse for their proximity,

He had kept his eyes closed the entire time. Strangely, he had the distinct impression that Castiel was shielding him with wings.

"They were wrong," Castiel murmured, after Dean was silent for a while. "They were so wrong to do what they did to you, Dean."

"It doesn't seem all that bad," sniffled Dean against his shoulder. "I mean, now that I say it out loud. But that was always the problem, y'know? No bruises, no abuse. An' you know the weirdest thing? Half the time I completely forget --"

As if this statement were some kind of fulcrum, a cascade of memories set off a fresh wave of horror within him.

_Dean, sitting on a stool in the cabin, holding a knife to his wrist and screaming at his mother never to put him back into juvie, and the knife clattering to the floor when his father slammed the door open --_

_Sam getting to go biking with **Dean's** friend staying up at the resort on the next lake over, Dean having to wash the dishes even though it wasn't his turn, he turned and **slammed** the huge bottle of dishwashing liquid into his mother's face --_

_and sharpshooting the target his Dad had put up against one of the trees, still wasn't good enough --_

_his Mom complaining about him while they were out in public at a restaurant as if he wasn't there, talking about how he needed to be medicated and what a martyr she was for even putting up with Dean --_

Dean finally looked up at Castiel, found solace in those baby blues.

"This cabin seems not to hold many other happy memories for you," said Castiel gently. "Perhaps it's time we make some."

Dean just stared at this man who seemed to have fallen from the sky like a savior.

Cautiously, he leaned forward and brushed Castiel's lips with his own, making a tiny sound as their lips met. 

Castiel's lips were soft and dry, a little chapped. Dean could taste his own tears. He was so far beyond embarrassment he'd come out the other side into confidence.

But then Castiel, still so gently, pushed him away.

Rejection paralyzed him, and now Dean felt like he was drowning in water that was increasingly black.

"This isn't a no," said Castiel softly. "You're very vulnerable right now, Dean. If you wish to reassert this offer later on, I will gladly accept. But not at the moment. I am your friend."

Dean clung to that thread of hope like it was the one thing that could keep him from drowning.

Still, he saw the sense of it. He nodded, slowly.

"I believe you mentioned ice cream," Castiel said. "I would like to experience it, if you are still willing to show me."

"Uh," said Dean, sitting up and away from him. His eyes ached and he felt exhausted. 

But ice cream _did_ sound good.

"Okay," Dean said. "Sure."

Castiel gave him a soft smile. Dean saw the darkened part of the shoulder of his trenchcoat and tried to ignore the sense of shame that washed over him.

"I'll drive," said Dean, and he stood up, shaking out his arms and letting out a breath.

Then he walked outside and led Castiel down to the Impala.

***

"This is a beautiful vehicle," said Castiel, and if the man didn't already have his heart, this would've been the moment. As it was, Dean just fell deeper.

"Yeah," he said, his enthusiasm building. "They don't make 'em like Baby anymore. Had this car my entire life, basically grew up in it. Then had to take care of Sam, keep him out of the system, which meant keeping away from the law. State to state, til he got old enough to strike out on his own. Guess living like that got into my blood. This is the first time I've tried to stay in one place."

"It's a lovely area," said Castiel. "But don't you think you'll be lonely out here all alone?"

"I'm not alone," said Dean. "I've got you."

Castiel smiled at him.

"That's a nice compliment," he said. "But you might find, in time, that I'm not enough."

"Sure you are, Cas," said Dean. "Don't sell yourself short."

"Please forgive me for asking," said Castiel, "but -- were your parents against your interest in men? Is that the reason for your poor treatment?"

Dean chuckled.

"No, they were very liberal and left-leaning," he said. "They celebrated LGBTQ stuff, were always really loud about acceptance. That's the thing about them. They always looked like the perfect parents, on the outside. Nobody ever believed me, because they only showed those faces to me."

Castiel nodded, as if he understood, somehow.

"Sometimes, even the people on our side aren't really on our side," said Dean. "I had no privacy. It was kind of like I was a trophy, you know? It's hard to explain."

"I think I understand," said Castiel. 

"I didn't even come out to them," said Dean. "My mom read it in my journal."

"Is that what you were reading when I found you?"

"No, that was my dad's journal," said Dean. "After my mom outed me, I never kept one again. Any illness I had, anything like that -- she'd broadcast it to the entire world. So I learned to keep secrets. Then I learned to drop out of contact with everyone, even my little brother, because without meaning to, he'd just tell her things that she'd broadcast."

"Sounds like there wasn't much trust there," said Castiel.

"No," he agreed. "And me an' Sam, well. Sam also treats me like I'm the world's biggest idiot. I kinda thought, after Mom and Dad died, that I wouldn't have to deal with that shit anymore, but it's like they passed it on to Sam."

Castiel was silent for a while. Then he said:

"I think it was unintentional on Sam's part," he said. "I remain convinced your brother loves you."

"Why, because of the dreamcatcher?" asked Dean. "That was a very different Sam, Cas."

"Nevertheless."

"How would you know, anyway?"

Castiel just spread his hands.

The Impala bumped onto the blacktop, and despite the discussion they were having, Dean felt his spirits lifting substantially. He fiddled with the dial on the radio until he found the oldies station, and started whistling along.

***

The sun was shining brightly as he led Castiel into the Willow Store.

"And it used to be in that building across the street, see? There was barely any room in there for people, but we all crammed in there anyway. Sam an' me thought the place was magic. Anyway, they moved here, newer building, very flashy."

Castiel followed him inside and Dean led him to the counter. The same old man was standing behind the register.

"Hi there!" he greeted Dean. "Back again so soon?"

"Well, my friend here said he'd never had one of your ice cream cones."

The old man made an expression of mock horror.

"Now, that must be rectified right away!" he said. "What'll be your pleasure?"

"What do you have today?" asked Dean.

"Hm..."

"No whisky ice cream this time?"

"Nah. Sold out."

"Damn. I was gonna try it."

"You snooze you lose."

"Guess that's true. I'll take strawberry shortcake," said Dean.

"Chocolate," said Castiel.

"All those weird flavors and you're going with _chocolate_?" asked Dean, grinning.

"I like chocolate."

"One chocolate, coming up."

Castiel watched, fascinated, as the old man packed an enormous amount of ice cream onto the cone.

Dean watched Castiel. 

Now, it finally felt like summer, with the hope and the promise that summer had always brought to him. It was his favorite season, after all.

But never more than when Castiel turned to him as they left the store, ice cream in one hand and bag of booze and snacks in the other.

"This place is still magic," Castiel declared. "No matter its location."

"Damn straight."

***

Dean was impressed that Castiel managed to finish his cone before they arrived at the cabin.

"Damn, Cas, it's like you made the thing disappear!" crowed Dean. "I didn't get to see your technique because I was driving, but you're a natural."

Dean did not mention that he had other reasons for not looking over at Castiel while he was driving, namely that watching his soft pink tongue cautiously lap at a drip of ice cream along the cone outside the store already had him half-hard in his pants, and if he'd looked at Castiel really going at it while driving they would have gotten into an accident, he was sure of it.

 _Eyes on the road, Winchester,_ he had to keep telling himself. _Eyes on the road._

"Thank you, Dean," said Castiel, and he sounded grateful.

They decided against the sauna that night, despite Castiel insisting that "the _saunatonttu_ is getting very impatient, Dean, you could at least leave him a bowl of milk". Dean did exactly that, although he felt very foolish doing so. After he did it, he inexplicably started to feel a little better.

"Then let's drink," Dean said. "I'll build us a little fire and we can drink out here by the water."

Dean managed to dig out the old firepit with the stones around it in a circle, a little distance from the sauna in its own clearing hidden from the rest of the lake. It was cozy here, a place of good memories. He and Sam used to like this place best.

"So, Mom died when the house burned down," explained Dean. "We were already pretty old by then, maybe ten-twelve? It's kinda tough to remember now, all a blur. Anyway, Dad brought us out here for a while, always writing in the journal. Then we got word he died in a car wreck. Left the car and this cabin to me, I guess because I was Sam's caretaker? I don't know. Anyway I hightailed it outta here but you know what the weird thing is?"

"What's that?" asked Castiel, sitting on a log, still wearing that trenchcoat even though it was summer. He was leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped, as if watching Dean make this fire was the most incredible thing he'd ever witnessed.

"The Impala was fine," said Dean. "Not a scratch on it. Never saw Dad's body. Never went to a funeral. Nothin'."

"Who told you he had died?" asked Castiel.

"Local sheriff," said Dean. "Doubt he was lying. Guess he coulda been, but why? I mean, the guy wasn't exactly a local or anything. He was a drifter, I'm a drifter. Nobody cares about us."

"I do," said Castiel so faintly that Dean wondered if he'd heard it at all. He pressed on with his story.

"Me an' Sam spent _years_ livin' like that," said Dean. "I did...whatever I needed to do, taking care of my brother. Sam got the scholarship, Sam went to Stanford, Sam disappeared from my life. Or, I disappeared from his. Anyway, the point is, we don't exactly exchange Christmas cards, and I don't think he would even know if I went missing. Not for years."

Dean opened the rum and poured himself a generous glass, and then did the same for Castiel.

Then, he started the fire.

He watched it catch, and the flames climb the branches, until a little bonfire was crackling merrily in the firepit.

His smile faded a little.

"And you know what else is weird?" said Dean. "My mother died in a house fire, right?"

"Yes?" said Castiel.

"Well the funniest thing," said Dean. "I went back through Kansas - that's where I grew up - to the house in Lawrence."

He stared into the fire for a while.

"Cas," he said. "The place was perfectly intact. There had been no fire there at all."


	9. Garden of Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for more on Dean's past history of child abuse, suicide attempt warning

It was late, and the embers of the fire were dying, and Dean was so pleasantly drunk he was just grinning at everything like an idiot.

"I like you, Cas," he said. Castiel did not seem quite as inebriated as Dean, but Dean didn't care, because he was just so ridiculously happy.

"I like you too, Dean," he said fondly. Dean was leaning against Castiel's leg.

"No mosquitoes out tonight," Dean commented then. "That's just...that's _awesome,_ Cas. This place, the firepit, me an' Sam loved it here. Dunno. Feels _happy._ "

"This is a very positive place," said Castiel. "Almost like an oasis."

Dean watched in confusion as Castiel seemed to think of something and then cast a very suspicious look in the direction of where the cabin was sitting in the dark.

"Somethin' wrong?" asked Dean.

"No," said Castiel, still staring into the darkness. "Nothing's wrong, exactly. I - "

Dean had climbed up onto the log, leaning into Castiel's space.

"Offer's still on the table," he said, dropping a wink.

Castiel stared at him.

"I - " he began. "Dean. You've been drinking."

"So've you."

"If you feel the same way in the morning, let me know."

"I felt the same way _all day_ ," Dean said, a little grumpy. "For _days_ now, y'know? Had this dream. You had wings. It was _so hot --_ "

Castiel jumped as if he'd been stung by a bee.

"You - I had wings?" he asked. 

Dean gave him a puzzled look.

"Yeah?" he said. "Was just a dream, it's okay. Think it's because of that feather you left me. Thanks for that, by the way. Is it a peacock feather? It has eyes."

Castiel gradually returned to sit beside Dean at the fireside. This time he sat with his back against the log, and Dean snuggled up to him with a happy little humming noise.

And then Dean promptly fell asleep.

***

He woke to find himself still outside, but this time he was alone.

He looked around to see if Castiel had left a note, but there was nothing apart from the ashes of the fire from the night before.

He stood up and stretched. The day was already hot, with a delicious wind blowing. 

Dean was surprised to find that he was in better spirits than he had been since he'd arrived.

_Hell. In years._

Then a lazy grin started to spread across his face.

There _were_ some perks, after all, living on what amounted to a private lake down a very long and confusing dirt road.

***

There was a resounding splash, and then heavy silence as Dean dove into the water off the dock. He kept his eyes open, marveling at the bright green of the clear water, the unique color still visible even underwater. He saw old logs and the usual forest detritus down there, which always kind of creeped him out but at the moment just seemed like a perfectly natural lakebed.

His head broke the surface, the sunlight glittering on the wavelets all across the lake, and he floated on his back. He watched the clouds float across the clear blue sky.

He hadn't a care in the world. It was as if the day before and the horrifying night preceding it hadn't happened. 

Or more like they had happened, but so long ago they were fuzzy memories, barely important in the light of day, the way it's impossible to hold onto dreams after waking.

He felt at peace, and so happy he felt like his heart would burst. There was no paradise like this one, he was certain of it.

There was another splash. He sat up in the water, treading, to see Castiel surface and swim over to him. Dean grinned. He was thrilled beyond belief to see him.

"Cas!" Dean called. "Awesome, isn't it?"

Castiel finally made it over to him. Beads of water in his lashes, the blue of his eyes like the clear green of the water, scintillating in the sun.

"Beautiful," he agreed.

His arm went around Dean.

"I am ready to accept, now," he said, and kissed him.

***

All of Dean's higher functions slammed the brakes.

All of Dean's lower functions geared up for the party.

***

They were both on the soft grass of the lawn beside the cabin, warm in the summer sunlight, naked and unashamed.

Dean looked up into Castiel's eyes.

"It's like the Garden of Eden," he said. "Like paradise."

Castiel's fingers traced his ribcage.

"My Adam, of the earth," he murmured.

"You sure got a weird way of talkin'," said Dean, and Castiel kissed him again. "You make me feel safe."

_You make me feel loved,_ he didn't say.

"You deserve it," said Castiel. "You deserve everything."

"Put me back together, Cas," said Dean, and _what a weird thing to say._

_That's weird._

_This is weird, what you're doing._

Dean ignored it. He didn't want to hear it. He was having _such_ a wonderful time.

_Why don't you have a hangover? You sure hit the bottle hard last night._

Castiel's body covered him now, his cock breaching him, as Dean cried out in wanton delight and wrapped his legs around Castiel's waist, just to feel him moving against his body. The sweat-slick slide of them together, in the warmth of the summer sun, just about made Dean lose his mind.

Then Castiel lifted him up, so Dean was in his lap, and pulling down _hard_ on his shoulders. Dean was outright yelling now as if there was no one to hear him, luxuriating in a mad kind of pleasure that threatened to consume him entirely.

"Wings," panted Dean. "Wings, Cas, show me your wings."

Castiel stopped and stared at him. Dean's hands clutched against his back in the place he had seen the oil in his dream.

It was Castiel's turn to scream. 

An enormous gasp and suddenly he was coming deep inside of Dean as if he couldn't help it. Dean grabbed his own cock and fisted it harshly, coming onto Castiel's stomach with gritted teeth and harsh breaths, like he wanted to mark him up. He reached out and rubbed his come into his skin as Castiel watched with huge eyes.

"Fuck," sighed Dean, leaning forward and touching his forehead to Castiel's. "Fuck."

Castiel didn't say a word.

***

They went swimming again. 

The day was lost to lazy, long rolls of Castiel's body fucking into Dean's, and the crazy desire stoked inside Dean to lay claim to Castiel as he bit and sucked every exposed part of Castiel's skin. The sex turned more and more violent, until Dean was scratching deep furrows into his skin and bruises on his thighs.

And Castiel took it all, those big blue eyes so trusting, like Dean could do whatever he wanted and Castiel refused to break. What had begun as gentle lovemaking descended into brutal fucking, but always and only with Castiel doing it.

_You deserve to be punished,_ said something inside his head. _You don't deserve him._

_Look at what you did, you sick fuck. What's wrong with you?_

Castiel stopped, finally pulling away after what seemed like an interminable time where he couldn't really separate between the times they had fucked anymore.

"I won't hurt you," said Castiel. "I won't hurt you, Dean."

"You already have," said Dean. "And I liked it."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. Exactly the same way as he had done the night before, staring at the cabin in the dark.

"Something's wrong," he said, sitting up and drawing away from Dean, who immediately missed the heat of him.

The sun was low in the sky, the world was turning lavender. It was still warm enough that their nudity didn't really bother them.

But it stung, and Dean felt it as a rejection.

_You're fucked up. It's fucked up you like that stuff, you know that?_

"Nothin' wrong with a little kink, Cas," said Dean, but it came out weak.

"I know," said Castiel. "Human appetites are varied, like the stars in the sky or the earth's plenty. But this is -- Dean, something's wrong. Really wrong."

"Okay," said Dean, anger welling up in him, the one thing that had always been there for him, the thing that had always protected him. "Okay, fine. I get it. You don't want to be with someone with these _appetites._ "

"It's not that," said Castiel. "Believe me, Dean, I bless the moment we met. You have the most beautiful soul I've ever seen. But something's wrong."

Dean froze. _Your soul, your soul._

He hadn't forgotten his dream. 

Suspicion flooded him. He stood up and turned away from Castiel, heading back up to the cabin, which they'd gotten pretty close to by the time he'd come to his senses.

"Dean," Castiel said, in the darkness behind him.

Dean didn't turn around. He resolutely walked into the cabin and then the shower. He soaped himself up, scrubbing at his body in disgust, his skin pinked and raw.

When he finally stepped out into the kitchen, he found Castiel standing there, already dressed again and staring at the floor awkwardly.

"You're still here?" snapped Dean. "I thought you'd be outta here. You do have a talent with disappearing."

"Dean, please listen to me," said Castiel.

Dean stomped up into his bedroom and he angrily pulled on his jeans, a t-shirt, and a flannel. He swiped a hand through his hair, shaking water droplets everywhere.

Then he walked back into the kitchen and down the step.

He didn't mention that he noticed the blanket on his parents' bed had moved again. Now it was on the floor.

"Okay," said Dean, arms crossed tight across his chest. "I'm listening."

"I think there's something wrong with this house," said Castiel in earnest. 

"There is _nothing_ wrong with this house," said Dean.

_But there's something wrong with me. Very wrong._

"Dean," said Castiel. "What were you dreaming about?"

Dean felt his face flush as he thought of the dream on the dock, with the wings --

but then he realized that Castiel was asking about the other dream.

The one where he'd woken up and sobbed into Castiel's shoulder for hours, unburdening himself for the first time in his life.

"None of your goddamn business," said Dean, and now all the armor was back up, right where it needed to be. 

He advanced on Castiel, who took a step back.

"Thing is," he said, "I don't know a _damned thing_ about you. Where do you live? Where are you from? _Soldier. Year-rounder._ But you've never been to the Willow Store? The old man there didn't recognize you either."

"I - I'm sorry," Castiel stuttered.

"You should be," snarled Dean, the hatred slowly covering his heart with the strange sense of black ink. "Why're you lying to me, Cas? I _fucking know_ you've been lying to me! Creep in here and into my -- my -- _life,_ just because you could! What, you saw some sad-sack lonely dude and thought _hey here's a guy I can just get inside his guts and twist him all up,_ huh?"

Castiel's head bowed in this onslaught.

"Please don't send me away," he said quietly. "I think you're in danger here."

"Yes, I am!" shouted Dean. "I fucking _hate being lied to._ Got enough of that shit from my parents. And if you really cared about me, you'd fucking _know better._ You want to tell me the goddamn truth, Cas? Huh?"

Castiel did not respond.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Dean. "Get out."

"Dean --"

"GET OUT!" bellowed Dean.

Castiel walked out the door and down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness.

"And stay out!" Dean roared.

He stood, in the kitchen, panting.

And realized that he would be spending another night in the cabin.

Alone.

***

The journal was still open on the table.

There were new pages at the end that hadn't been there before.

Dean sat down and started to read.

***

_September 18. 2008. I knew there was something weird about this day, all those years ago. There's a man around here, calls himself Castiel. Bad vibes. Think he might be a serial killer or something. Need to protect the boys._

Dean read the date again.

_But Dad was dead by then._

_Wasn't he?_


	10. Aerosmith

**_a little shakin_ **

**_a little tenderizin_ **

**_and down ye go_ **

_It's a nightmare. It must be._

_Everything is dark._

_Why can't I see...?_

***

Dean woke sometime after midnight.

He blinked into the darkness, wondering what had woken him.

_Thup._

_Thup._

_Thup._

A slow, methodical sound.

It was coming from his parents' bedroom.

" _Fuck_ no," he said aloud, squeezing his eyes shut.

Blindly, he reached out to touch the feather and the dreamcatcher. It was almost like an instinct.

One hand landed on the dreamcatcher, he felt the soft yarn and the beading of the web.

The other hand landed on --

something wet, sliding against his hand, like a tongue.

_No no no no no no --_

Yelling, Dean hit the lights.

Light flooded the room and he squinted at the change.

There was nothing there.

Dean tried to catch his breath, calming down.

_Must've been a bad dream --_

And then he realized.

The feather was gone.

***

Dean grabbed the blanket from off his bed and the pillows.

He couldn't sleep in this place again.

He headed down the hill to the sauna.

***

He turned and locked himself inside the little building.

There was a little entryway for shoes and clothes, along with a little shower, and the doorway to the sauna itself.

Dean flicked on the light, and something caught his eye.

"Holy shit," he breathed.

He leaned down and dug through the snorkels, towels, and other stuff to find what he had just glimpsed the corner of.

"My record player," he said, grinning.

Music. That's what he'd been missing.

He saw the box of records further back, near the shower, and pulled them out.

Plugging it in, he turned it on, and was rewarded with the dials lighting up.

"Hope you like music," said Dean to the _saunatonttu,_ and dropped a record onto the turntable.

The comforting crackle of music filled the place.

Smiling, the strange dark clouds surrounding his heart dissipating, Dean went to work building a small fire in the stove.

***

Closer to dawn, Dean heard something over the music.

He knew it was near dawn because of some inner clock, still dark but the sun was only a few hours off the horizon.

He heard the sound again, louder than the song that was playing, which he had hoped would mask any noises he didn't want to hear.

A slow, strange scraping.

Dean held completely still.

_It can't find me here,_ he thought.

_What can't find you?_ was his next thought, and he really didn't want to know the answer to that question.

The door opened.

And there was Castiel.

"Cas!" Dean said. "Oh, fuck, _Cas,_ you scared the living shit out of me! Don't _do_ that!"

"My apologies," said Castiel. "I went to the cabin but I couldn't find you. Are you all right? Why are you sleeping in the sauna?"

Dean sat up and rubbed his eyes. He sighed.

"You were right," he said. "Something freaky is goin' on with that place."

Castiel climbed up onto the top bench to sit beside him.

"Is that why you brought the phonograph down here?"

Dean smiled.

"Music saved my life," he said. "More times than I can count. But it was already out here, from back when we liked to play music while we were swimming. I've been going between _not_ wanting to hear what's out there and _needing_ to, you get me?"

Castiel nodded.

"Yes," he said. "You're tired. I'll watch over you."

He pillowed Dean's head in his lap, and instead of posturing or arguing, Dean just went with it.

"There's a song that reminds me of you," said Castiel softly. " _I have my books, and my poetry to protect me. Hiding in my room, safe within this womb I touch no one and no one touches me. I am a rock, I am an island. And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries._ "

Dean gave him a disbelieving look.

"Are you seriously trying to seduce me with Simon and Garfunkel?" he asked. "Rude. Also, what poetry?"

"You may not write it down," said Castiel. "But I can read it on your soul."

"Man, you say some weird things, Cas," said Dean. "But you want to get into my soul _or_ my pants, or just get my attention, remember: _the way to Dean's heart is classic rock._ "

"Simon and Garfunkel is classic rock," Castiel argued.

" _Folk_ ," Dean corrected.

"But you like Simon and Garfunkel."

"How dare you."

"It's on the record player right now. You were listening to it."

"Shut up. It's soothing."

"So then you _do_ like Simon and Garfunkel."

"Shut up."

Castiel's low chuckle washed over him. It warmed him more than the fire did, from the inside out, like hot tea on a cold day.

"Tomorrow I'll make you grilled cheese sandwiches," murmured Dean. "You like grilled cheese sandwiches, Cas? An' tomato basil soup. I put in cumin and ginger, you know. Then you dip them. The sandwiches."

"I will accept anything you give me," said Castiel. "I am grateful just to be here with you, Dean."

In the low, warm light of the sauna stove, Dean talked about his favorite bands until exhaustion overtook him. Castiel's hand was a heavy comfort on his head, and Dean fell asleep.

He did not dream.

***

Castiel followed Dean back up to the cabin the next day.

"They're talking about a storm front moving in," he told Dean. "I don't know if you've heard. It's been on -- on the radio."

Dean stopped. He stood very still.

Time spooled out.

"Dean?" asked Castiel.

He turned around.

"You can't stay here," said Dean. "Nice try, oozing your way in here."

Castiel gave him a dumbfounded look laced with hurt.

"I know you think you're better off alone, Dean --"

"I don't need you messing up my life!" Dean exploded.

He was suddenly angry, defensive and embarrassed, as if he'd shown Castiel something he wasn't supposed to.

"But you said -- " Castiel tried. "The grilled cheese sandwiches?"

Dean glared at him and grit his teeth.

Castiel stared at Dean. Then his eyes slid to the side, past him, a look of deep suspicion sinking into his expression.

He was watching the cabin now, looking hunted.

"Dean, you _must_ see that this place is messing with your head!" Castiel pleaded. " _Please._ "

"The only thing that's messing with my head is you!" said Dean. He was starting to get dizzy. "I don't need you! Leave me alone!"

"No," said Castiel steadily. "No, I won't leave you. Something is _wrong_ , Dean. Haven't you noticed? Every time we get anywhere near this cabin your entire personality changes!"

"Yeah, and?" Dean demanded. "You wanna fill me in on your story? Your _real_ story, Cas."

Castiel was silent.

"That's what I thought," said Dean, and he slammed the door in Castiel's face.

Castiel stayed out there for a long time.

But eventually, when Dean looked out the window, the yard was empty.

***

Dean wanted to get to work on the cabin again. He really did.

Minnesota summers didn't last _that_ long, after all.

But he was lethargic.

And he didn't really _need_ to insulate the cabin, did he?

A fireplace wasn't really necessary either.

Dean just sat with the journal in his lap and had another glass of whisky. The night passed without incident.

Sleep eluded Dean entirely.

He missed the sense of joy from the day before, and wondered how things had gone upside down so quickly. 

But when he thought of Castiel, only hatred and fear flooded through him. 

He couldn't even access the feelings of excitement he'd had before their confrontation.

The day dawned cloudy.

Castiel did not return.

***

Dean decided to make the drive to the Willow Store. He'd been so preoccupied with getting ice cream and booze the day before he'd forgotten to pick up more bread and salami. Besides, he needed to clear his head.

He was finding it difficult to leave the cabin. He felt safe there.

_Strange. A couple of days ago I wanted to be anywhere else._

He climbed into the Impala, feeling a strange, dark yearning for the quiet of the little library.

"I'll be back soon," he said aloud, and then felt stupid. He threw the car into gear and headed down the road.

***

If he had hoped to see Castiel somewhere on the drive, he was disappointed.

***

Dean found his spirits lifting again as he went into the store. 

He grabbed the stuff he came for and went to the register.

"Whoa, slow down there," said the old man. "Like a bat outta hell. Where's the fire?"

_Fire._

_Where's the fire?_

The words echoed around Dean's brain, rattling like marbles.

"Huh?" Dean asked, staring at the man behind the counter.

He smiled, and put out a hand, fingertips brushing the back of Dean's hand.

Instantly, Dean felt much better.

"What, uh," said Dean. "What's your name? I'm Dean."

The old man smiled brightly.

"Gabriel," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Where's your friend?"

"Not my friend," said Dean harshly.

"Oh? You seemed pretty chummy," said Gabriel. 

"Yeah, that was yesterday," said Dean. 

"Trouble in paradise?" asked the old man.

"Just ring up the groceries, old man," grumped Dean.

"All right, just makin' friendly conversation," said Gabriel. "Word to the wise. Stick to that one. He's good."

Now Dean was really confused.

"You acted like you'd never seen him before," he said.

"When was that?"

"Yesterday."

"Ah. Well," said Gabriel. "I wasn't sure he wanted me to say anything, but he's a good guy. Shy, kinda retiring, not one to make a scene. Good heart, though."

Dean nodded. He was starting to feel terrible about how he'd treated Castiel the day before.

"Maybe..." said Dean. "I might have made a mistake."

"He'll forgive you," said Gabriel.

"You think?"

"Honestly? He's gone on you, kid," said Gabriel. "Believe me. He'll listen. If you want him to hear."

"Huh," said Dean.

_That's a weird way to put it._

"That'll be 11.73," said Gabriel. 

Dean handed him some cash and Gabriel bagged his food.

"Thanks," said Gabriel. "Come again."

"Thanks for the advice," said Dean.

"Anytime," said Gabriel. "Go get 'em, tiger."

Dean walked out into the parking lot in a daze.

He had the distinctly strange feeling that there was some kind of struggle going on around him, but one so esoteric and intangible that he could only sense the edges of it.

He climbed back into Baby and drove away.

***

On the way down the blacktop, he kept having the _weirdest_ impulses.

_Maybe I should go back and get one of those cheeseburgers at the diner, see if they're as good as they used to be._

_Maybe I should go back to the Willow Store and see if they have any strawberries._

_I heard they built a new theater in Hibbing. Maybe there'd be a good matinee._

These thoughts seemed to increase as he drove down the gravel road until they became an insistent whine.

In fact, it sounded like all these thoughts had some kind of high-pitched whine behind them.

But he pulled up in the driveway and they all fell silent at once.

_Weird._

He looked up at the cabin, and he could _swear_ he saw something inky-black creep up the side of the cabin's wall and vanish into the window of his parents' bedroom.

He blinked.

He rubbed his eyes.

He opened the door of the car and stood up.

Birds singing. Insects buzzing. The little waves of the lake on the shore. The loons calling. Nothing out of place.

He stared _hard_ at the cabin.

He got the distinct impression that the cabin was staring back at him. 

Not for the first time, he wondered why Castiel kept looking at the cabin in the dark.

Like he'd seen something.

Dean dismissed it angrily, grabbing the food out of the car.

_If he wanted me to take him seriously, he shouldn't have lied to me._

Determined, he walked up the hill to the cabin.

***

Inside the cabin, Dean looked at the measuring tape.

He wasn't all that interested in making changes to the place anymore.

He didn't really like the idea of ruining the place just to put in a stove or fireplace.

He curled up in his chair with another book.

After a while, he slept.

***

_He was picking blueberries._

_He was raking leaves._

_He got the sense he was being watched._

_Dean turned around to see Castiel standing behind him._

_"What is it, Cas?" he asked._

_Castiel tried to speak, but no sound emerged._

_"I don't understand," said Dean. "I can't hear you."_

_For some reason, he didn't feel anger or betrayal._

_He just felt like he **really** needed to know what Castiel was trying to tell him._

_He walked up to Castiel and it was like there was a glass wall between them._

_He reached out toward him._

_"Cas!" he yelled. "_ _**Castiel!** "_

***

Dean woke up.

There was music reverberating, shaking the cabin.

Dean's thoughts were muzzy. His tongue felt thick and strange in his mouth.

He felt sick, like he was coming down with something.

He wanted to feel angry, but he was too exhausted.

_Where the hell was that music coming from?_

He could feel it in his body, rattling his bones.

Then he recognized it.

"Aerosmith?" he said aloud.

He stood up and looked out the window.

And there was Castiel, standing _on top of the Impala_ with both of the front doors wide open, arms crossed, wearing that trenchcoat in the hot summer weather --

And above him, arching beautifully, were two enormous wings.

Dean's jaw dropped open.

And he recognized the song.

It was _Angel._

***

"Dean Winchester," bellowed Castiel. "Come out here _right now._ "

Dean ran to the screen porch and looked out the window there.

Sure enough, Castiel was still standing on top of the car.

"You're gonna scratch the paint!" Dean tried to shout over the music in vain.

"Then come out here and stop me!" Castiel shouted back. "I assure you, I am _**very heavy!** "_

_How the hell did he_ _**hear** me?_

_How the hell does he have_ _**wings**?_

"You're gonna ruin the --" Dean started. " _God fucking_ _ **damn it!** "_

He was fighting against _himself_ to leave the house by this point, it seemed. 

Now he was really confused.

The guitar solo was playing.

Dean threw himself out the door and then down the hill.

Standing in front of the Impala, looking up at Castiel standing there with those wings spread wide was even more impressive close up.

Castiel hopped lightly from the car to the ground.

"Get in the car," he commanded. "Right now."

"Okay," said Dean, cowed.

_What the hell **is** he?_

The obvious answer was right there, but it was too damned crazy.

"Put it in gear and drive," directed Castiel. He was in the passenger seat now.

The wings were gone.

Dean ached for them the instant he couldn't see them anymore.

But he didn't have another choice.

He drove.


	11. The Thing With Feathers

"Nice _Say Anything_ moment back there," said Dean, as they sped along the gravel road.

"What?"

"You were standing on my _car._ "

"It got your attention."

"Yeah, because you were _standing_ on my _car!_ "

"That's your takeaway?"

Dean sighed.

"Okay," he said. "I am beyond out of my depth here. You're gonna have to fill me in."

"I am an angel of the Lord."

"I kinda picked up on that."

"I was sent here to help you."

"Now that I don't believe."

"Believe it," said Castiel. "You were my assignment. But then I saw you and -- and --"

"And then we knew each other. Biblically."

"Yes."

"They look down on that kinda thing up there?"

"Yes."

Dean could feel Castiel's eyes on him as Baby tore up the road.

"You don't seem surprised," said Castiel.

"Buddy, so much weird shit has been happening lately, I'd believe anything you told me," said Dean. "The wings helped. But I'd seen them before, in my dream. No _way_ could you have replicated those wings exactly as I saw them. So you're an angel."

Castiel turned an interesting shade of pink.

"That, ah, wasn't a dream. It wasn't _your_ dream, anyway."

"Cas, you perv."

"I assure you, I had no idea it was you," said Castiel. "But your soul shone so bright, in my dream. I should've known."

"Always wanted to have a hot soul," said Dean.

"Believe me, you do."

"I'm flattered. So that feather. It was yours?"

"Yes," Castiel agreed. "A tailfeather."

"You have a tail?"

"Yes."

"Wait a second," Dean said. "That feather was iridescent, with eyes, like the tailfeathers of a peacock. Do you have a display tail, like a peacock, Cas?"

Castiel hunched down in the seat a little bit.

"I might."

"So when I saw you on the dock --"

"If you had certain perceptive abilities --"

"You were showing off your tail, huh?" laughed Dean. "How about when you were on the car?"

"We're getting off-topic," said Castiel.

"Talk about peacocking," laughed Dean. "Hell of a mating dance!"

"There are other pressing matters here, Dean --"

"Aw, c'mon," said Dean. "I wanna see your beautiful tail!"

"Dean, focus," said Castiel.

"Look, I'm sorry, but it's pretty damn hard to focus!" snapped Dean. "I take it this was why you've been so damned secretive?"

Dean saw Castiel nod, out of the corner of his eye.

"Okay," said Dean. "Okay. So - leaving aside the fact that you're apparently a fucking _angel_ , for the moment - do you know what the hell is goin' on with the place?"

"I think so. But not here," said Castiel. "It's not safe. I don't know the length of its reach."

"What?"

"Drive."

"Gotcha."

***

They'd almost hit the blacktop road when Castiel motioned to Dean.

"Pull over here," said Castiel. "I sense less of its influence."

"You sure it's safe?"

"Sure as I can be."

"'Cause Baby goes all the way to Hibbing, you know. Hell, she goes all the way to Chicago."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," mused Castiel.

"Then spill."

Castiel turned to him, and Dean was pinned again by those blue eyes. 

Something ethereal about them.

_Of course,_ he thought wildly. _He's a fucking angel!_

_You are in **so much trouble.**_

_How much trouble is he in, doing that stuff with me?_

"Are you familiar with sundews?"

Dean blinked.

"Sundews?" he said, searching his memory. "Oh. Yeah. It's a plant."

"A carnivorous plant."

"Sure."

"There are creatures," said Castiel, "much like myself, that are very, _very_ old. So old they don't even exist in human folklore anymore, not really. Stories are forgotten."

"Makes sense."

"Some of these creatures are a type of mimic," Castiel explained. "Sundews often make do with what they have, as carnivory was an adaptation. They still prefer the usual nutrients plants do, but will eat insects when nothing else is available. Unlike sundews, the creatures I'm referring to _prefer_ meat, and they'll do just about anything to get it."

"Okay."

"Now, some of these creatures develop a taste for things," said Castiel. "Some people like curry, some people like carbonara. Following?"

Dean nodded.

"So," said Castiel, "certain emotions are like seasonings. Pepper here. Cumin there. Like you said about the soup, and the grilled cheese sandwiches. Fear, hatred, anger - they're like spice. Love, lust, happiness - they're sweet."

"Interesting," said Dean. "What does this have to do with my haunted house? Because I'm pretty damned sure it's haunted."

Castiel straightened his tie. Dean tracked the motion with interest, focusing on those nimble fingers, and large hands.

"I thought the same," said Castiel. "Some places are vengeful. Some spirits too. But this place, I couldn't get a bead on anything. I saw your reactions but I couldn't figure out for the life of me what was going on. Only that something was wrong."

"But now you figured it out?"

"I think so," said Castiel. "Dean, that cabin isn't a cabin at all. It's a very, very old form of carnivorous plant, made to look innocuous."

Dean stared at him.

"What the hell are you trying to say?"

"Dean," he said. "You were being digested."


	12. Instinct

" _Digested?_ " 

Dean couldn't stand the high pitch of his voice, but it was out there now and he couldn't take it back.

"When was the last time you had something to eat?" asked Castiel earnestly.

"I'm always eating."

"But recently?"

Dean thought about it. He'd had whisky (quite a lot of it, in fact) but he couldn't really recall anything in the last few days that resembled food.

"Now that you mention it," admitted Dean, "I was hittin' the bottle pretty hard and I don't think I had...anything to eat."

"So talking about grilled cheese and soup," explained Castiel, "was not part of the cabin's plan, so to speak."

"So it was done, what, _seasoning me_?" asked Dean, horrified. 

"Yes," said Castiel. "And for all intents and purposes, I think you were ready."

"To be digested."

"Yes. It had already begun."

"But you were in the cabin too," Dean pointed out.

"Angel," Castiel replied. "Too many positive emotions. I don't think it likes the taste."

"Spit don't swallow, huh."

"I don't understand that reference."

"Never mind."

"So, yes, I think it was doing the equivalent of spitting me out," said Castiel. "The sauna and the dock - you're aware of anglerfish, I assume?"

"Yeah. Freaky bastards."

"Well, the sauna and dock act like the lightstalk of an anglerfish," said Castiel. "The dock, something like a long tongue."

"This is disgusting."

"Not as disgusting as if I hadn't been able to get through to you," said Castiel. "It wasn't letting me get near you, not in dreams or in waking. I had to talk your car into helping me."

Whatever the limits of Dean's suspension of disbelief, he now hit that wall at high speed.

" _Baby_ did that?" said Dean. "Uh uh. Look, I'll accept that there's a carnivorous-plant cabin-mimic. I'll even buy that you're an angel, I saw the wings, and not just today. But Baby's a car. I love her, but she's _just_ a car. I can't believe I'm saying this, you know I don't mean it, right, Baby?"

He stroked the dashboard.

"And she loves you very much in return," said Castiel. "Ever wonder why she never breaks down? _Ever_?"

"I'm good with cars."

" _Nobody_ is that good with cars," said Castiel. "The old Impalas steer like cows. They can be reliable daily drivers but cross-country, like you've driven her? No. She appreciates that you take care of her, she can tell that you care. So she just...doesn't break down."

"Huh," said Dean, flashing a grin. "You know that's every car guy's wet dream, right?"

Castiel looked down his nose at Dean.

"Then I think you should not be judging me for mine," he said drily.

"Hey, no judging," said Dean, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "That was fuckin' hot, man. Speaking of which, I lost your feather."

Castiel nodded.

"That makes sense. The feather, the dreamcatcher, they were talismans," said Castiel. "Love, protection, happiness, good memories flowing through you. It didn't like that. You were already halfway down its throat when I managed to figure out what was going on. I'm sorry I couldn't act faster, Dean."

"Hell, I'm glad you acted at all," said Dean. "And for what it's worth, I'm sorry for how I treated you back there. That was shitty of me."

"It wasn't you," said Castiel. "It was the cabin."

"Hey," said Dean. "Monster or no monster, I can be an asshole, okay? It's feeding off things inside me, right? So those things were also me. I ain't goin' the way of my parents and pretending it didn't happen. You don't deserve that, Cas. Nobody does. So I'm sorry."

Castiel sent him a tiny smile.

"Then apology accepted," he said.

Dean realized that he had been staring at Castiel's mouth.

"Uh, so, we're safe now, right?" he asked.

"For the moment, I think so, yes," said Castiel.

"Good," said Dean, and then surged forward to kiss him.

***

"Fuck, Cas," murmured Dean against Castiel's mouth. "You taste _so good_ -"

"Dean," sighed Cas. "Dean, I really think there are more pressing things -"

His eyes fluttered closed as Dean put a hand over Castiel's cock, hard through the fabric of his pants.

"More pressing than this, Cas?" teased Dean. "You think?"

Castiel bit off a moan, then grabbed Dean by the back of the head and silenced him with a ferocious kiss.

"Come on, come back here," said Dean, and he slid into the backseat. Castiel was helpless, his eyes huge, following where Dean led, like he was irresistible.

But Dean was not prepared for the wild animal with whom he had to deal.

With a growl, Castiel reached out and shredded his jeans, exposing Dean to the air in the car, getting close and warm, steaming up the windows. Dean's shirt was rucked up, the muscles in his stomach flexing, his cock hard and curved. He looked down at it and then up at Castiel with renewed awe and the sense that he was really in over his head.

Because here, beyond where the cabin was affecting them, Dean suddenly understood that he was sharing the backseat of his car with a large, very ancient predator.

Castiel pulled his jeans down to his knees in a swift motion. He was still growling, low in his throat. Dean could feel the denim rubbing against his thighs, just below his ass. Castiel flipped him over, and Dean got the sense that his wings would be flaring high, up and out, if not for the cramped space of the car.

_Huh. Guess I enjoy being manhandled,_ floated across his consciousness as he grabbed for the windows, making desperate handprints in the steam on the glass.

" _Mine,_ " snarled Castiel in his ear, and fucked into him without any preparation whatsoever.

Dean expected pain, but all he felt was an insane spike of pleasure as if he had been impaled through with it. He was crying out like a bitch in heat as Castiel fucked him, his hands slipping in Dean's sweat as his iron grip wrapped around him. Sobbing, Dean came across the leather seats, crazily thinking _that_ was going to be worse than the ice cream. 

Castiel then _lifted him up bodily_ and absolutely _railed into him_ until he came hard with a triumphant shout.

"Man, that's gonna bruise," said Dean, and promptly fell unconscious.

***

Some time later, Dean blinked awake to something vibrating.

Castiel was still wrapped around him, and also _still inside him._

Dean realized the vibrating was coming from Castiel _._

"Cas?" said Dean quietly.

Cas responded by using his legs to spread Dean's, and slowly thrusting his still-hard cock deeper inside him, as if he were proving a point, laying a claim.

" _Ah! Fuck! Cas!_ " shouted Dean. His own cock gave a valiant twitch, but he was too wiped out.

Now he was stuck, it seemed, and the angel's lazy, confident smile in his sleep did not augur well for Dean's future ability to free himself from Castiel's hold.

_Serves you right, fucking an angel,_ he thought. _No idea what kind of mating strategy they have. Apparently it's the possessive type._

He shivered with pleasure. He had to admit that it was pretty hot, to just be _wanted_ so badly. 

And Castiel was so _strong._

Then the vibrating started up again, like a low growl with a whine behind it.

"Cas, are you _purring_?" Dean asked.

One blue eye cracked open. 

"'M happy," mumbled Castiel.

"That's great, me too, but could we maybe -"

Another thrust made Dean moan, and Castiel's limbs tightened around him again.

"You'll stay right there," said Castiel through the strange growling purr. "And take what I give you. Understood?"

Dean's breathy sigh, his exhaustion, his cock impossibly filling again to stand proud against his stomach as Castiel's huge hand wrapped around it to give it a slow stroke, made him drop his head back against Castiel's shoulder and be used as the angel saw fit.

Dean could feel Castiel's smug, arrogant grin against his shoulder, but was soon too lost to pleasure to care.

***

"Dean."

Dean heard his name, but he wasn't interested in waking up.

He felt like he'd been run over by an eighteen-wheeler.

A hand on his shoulder.

Strange, fizzy little lightning bolts made their way through his body, which was aching and he was absolutely certain that he was going to find himself black and blue whenever he got around to opening his eyes.

He made a concentrated effort and managed to half-open his lids. They felt far too heavy, so he closed them again.

"Dean."

The note of panic he registered in the voice made him take a little more interest in the proceedings. 

The hand was on his forehead now, and those strange, fizzy sensations were back again. It made him feel like he was carbonated.

"Cas?" he guessed, but he wasn't sure the word had even emerged from his mouth.

His voice was worn ragged from screaming.

"It was too much for you," said Castiel, anxious. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please wake up."

Dean managed to open his eyes now, and found himself entirely naked.

He looked down at his body. Bruised, but not quite as bad as he'd expected given how beat up he felt. 

Sticky. 

"Blech," said Dean. 

"Oh, thank God," said Castiel, right up in Dean's face. "Dean, are you all right?"

"Feel like...worst hangover _ever_ ," he said. "Water?"

"Of course," said Castiel, and somehow there was bottled water in front of him.

Dean took a long drink and saw Castiel staring at the column of his throat.

"Don't start," he warned. Castiel looked down, embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, Dean," said Castiel. "You're not well and I already have a terrible time controlling myself around you, and then you kissed me -"

"Wild animal," Dean interrupted. "Trust me, I get it. I ain't never gonna think I'm hot shit in the sack again. Holy hell, Cas. When we do that again, I'm gonna need to load up on the carbs."

Castiel smiled at that, but he kept petting at Dean, and those fizzy sensations followed his hands.

"What're you doin'?" asked Dean, as he finished the bottle. He took a deep breath and blew it out.

"I'm healing you," Castiel explained.

"That bad, huh?"

Castiel's only response was to blush.

"I may have been ... overenthusiastic in my affections," he said. "Angels, when they mate - well."

"Yeah, I guess an interspecies fling wasn't really on the cards," said Dean.

"It's not a fling for me, Dean."

"Me either."

They stared at each other.

It went on a little too long.

"Okay," said Dean, breaking eye contact. "That's gotta stop, because if you're as animal as you seem to be, I get the impression that, uh, _instinct_ is gonna take over."

"Agreed," nodded Castiel.

"And hey, could we open the doors?" Dean asked. "I'm suffocating here."

"My apologies," said Castiel. 

He snapped his fingers and the doors opened.

Dean gaped at him.

"Buddy," he said, "if I even thought I had it in me, I'd be up for another go-round just because of that."

Castiel didn't reply, but he seemed flattered by the praise.

"Up you get," he said, and helped Dean to standing.

His legs nearly buckled underneath him, but Castiel caught him and righted him again.

Then Dean turned to look at him. Castiel was just staring at his body.

"Glad you're enjoying the show, Cas," said Dean, "but, uh, clothes?"

"Oh!" said Castiel, shaking himself. 

Suddenly Dean was clean and dressed.

He let out a low whistle.

"Damn," he said. "This is really doin' it for me, you know?"

Then he registered that low, growling purr.

"Wait, wait, wait!" said Dean. "That wasn't an invitation, we've got to keep our heads in the game right now, okay?"

The growl cut off and Castiel nodded.

"And, if you can clean us both up," said Dean, nodding toward the Impala, "you think you could do the same for Baby? I know that generations of Winchesters have messed around back there but this was a little more than that, you know what I mean?"

"Of course," said Castiel, and snapped his fingers again.

Dean couldn't resist. He stuck his head back inside the car.

"Hell," he said. "I think that's as clean as this car has ever been."

He stood up, and wobbled again, collapsing against the side of the Impala.

Castiel was there to catch him.

"Thanks, Cas," said Dean.

"You need food," said Castiel, shaking his head. "That was very foolish of me."

"Stop apologizing and buy the best fuck of your life a cheeseburger," said Dean.

"Will you be all right to drive?"

"Sure. It's just standing that's the problem."

"Because I can drive."

"You may be able to drive," said Dean, making his way around to the driver's side door and getting in, "but you can't drive Baby."

Castiel got into the passenger side and they both shut the doors.

"What kind of test do I need to take in order to drive this car?" he asked.

"When I find out, I'll let you know."


	13. The Diner

"Oh my _God._ "

Dean moaned around a mouthful of cheeseburger, making other people in the diner turn to look at him. He gave them a jaunty wave.

Cas was staring at him with wide eyes.

"Cat got your tongue?"

"If you do not wish for my _instincts_ to take over and have me mount you right here in this diner," hissed Castiel, "you will keep those noises _to yourself._ "

"Sorry," said Dean, bowing his head. "That'd be pretty damned hot, though."

The low warning growl made Dean shrink back in his chair.

"All right, all right," he said. "Touchy, touchy. I haven't eaten in days, what did you expect?"

Castiel sighed as if Dean was trying his patience.

"How long does this last, by the way?" Dean asked. "Now that you're out of range of that place and your natural, uh, mating instincts are in overdrive?"

"Years," said Castiel testily.

Dean swallowed.

"You're gonna have blue balls for _years?_ " whispered Dean.

"Not if you keep making noises like that, I won't."

"Okay, okay," said Dean. "Gotcha."

"As it is, I find it _extremely difficult_ not to -"

"Jump my bones anywhere and everywhere, yeah yeah," said Dean. "Still hope I get to see those tailfeathers someday. Or just the wings again would be good."

"You like my wings?" asked Castiel, as if he were surprised to discover it.

"Yeah, they're fucking badass," said Dean, taking another bite of his burger and talking with his mouth full. "And gorgeous."

"I wouldn't think - I mean, they are the least human part of me," said Castiel.

"What can I say?" said Dean, swallowing the food. "I'm kinky."

Castiel ground his teeth.

"Changing the subject!" Dean said hurriedly. "Now that we know about the cabin, what do we do about it?"

Castiel sighed.

"I have no idea," he said. "I wish I did. But these creatures are so old that everyone thought they'd died out. They're a type of koinobiont endoparasitoid - "

He smiled at Dean's puzzled look.

"A type of parasite that feeds on the host from the outside, and allows the host to continue its development while feeding on it," he explained. "A behavior-altering parasite, too, given the way your demeanor changed whenever we got too close to the cabin. Induced hypokinesia, too - causing lethargy, a lack of spontaneous movement, lack of response to external stimuli..."

Castiel was looking at the ceiling thoughtfully.

"Keeping you in a hypokinetic state meant that it could keep you fresh for feeding on. Maybe for months, or years. It may also be a parasitic castrator, given the difference in my own mating behaviors between then and now."

Dean stared at him. Miraculously, he set the cheeseburger down on his plate.

"Please do not under any circumstances explain what you mean by that."

"The thing is," Castiel pressed on, blessedly not explaining himself, "These beings are so very old they were thought extinct. Angel folklore doesn't even retain stories about them, even though they've been around since the beginning."

"Angels have folklore?"

"Yes," said Castiel. "An entire society, really. We are not too different from humans in that respect. The major difference is that punishments for indiscretions are eternal."

Dean gave him a guilty look.

"Does that mean you're gonna get thrown into the Pit for what we did?" he asked. 

Castiel shook his head.

"I don't think so," he said. "It's frowned on, but I've always felt it was more a cultural taboo than illegal, so to speak. Anyway, my -- I -- view you as my mate, now. And angels --"

"Mate for life," finished Dean. When Castiel shot him a surprised look, Dean shrugged. "I figured that would be the kind of thing angels would do. Bondmates, packmates. Wild animal stuff."

"Plenty of wild animals don't do that."

"And plenty do. I figured angels were probably on the _mate for life_ side."

"Yes," said Castiel. "So, while I think it's unusual, because it's difficult for angels to fathom why one of us would choose a human mate, I don't think the punishment will be severe."

"So they're just racist."

"After a manner of speaking, yes."

"Great. The one place I'd hoped to find a lack of racism was Heaven, really."

"Oh, they don't differentiate between humans," said Castiel. "Humans are all the same to angels, so in that sense, yes, Heaven is free from that type of prejudice."

"So they just kinda look down on everybody equally. Not sure that's better, Cas."

"Heaven does have its issues," Castiel said. "I assume you've read the Bible, which says as much."

"Here and there, Gideon's Bibles in motel room drawers when there was nothin' else to read, sure," said Dean. "Didn't really pick up on the part where angels looked like peacocks though."

"Not all of us do," said Castiel. "I'm a seraph, so that's my true form. Other angels have other true forms. But the scribes that said angels had many-eyed wings? They had seen the seraphs, which peacocks are based on."

"Wait a second. Peacocks are _based on_ seraphs?"

"Well, yes. We came first."

"Then what are the other angels like?" asked Dean. "I saw a video online once, you know that bower bird that does the stupid dance?"

"I am aware, yes."

"Imagine if that's how you tried to get my attention."

Dean laughed.

"I assure you, I have a very grand and beautiful tail."

"I'm sure you do," said Dean, winking at him. "Trying to impress me, Castiel?"

Instead of rising to the bait, Castiel reached across the table, lifted his hand, and planted a kiss on it.

"Always."

This shut Dean up, as he choked a little on his burger and could _feel_ himself turning beet red.

"Hm," said Castiel. "Should I wish to subdue my mate, I feel I have found the answer."

"Subdue?" spluttered Dean. " _Mate_?" 

Castiel inclined his head, as if this was a fact of life and not worth arguing over, any more than Dean could rightly argue that the sky wasn't blue.

"You sure - you've got a lot of nerve - you," Dean said, and went back to his cheeseburger.

Castiel just smiled serenely.

***

Later, after two milkshakes and three pieces of pie, Dean could barely move. The waitress kept stealing glances at him and by this point he was pretty sure it wasn't because she found him handsome.

"Did you tell me that you'd planned some kind of refurbishment on the cabin?" asked Castiel.

"Oh. Yeah. Thing is," said Dean, "I ain't got nowhere else to go. Dad left me this cabin in his will, which, by the way, _thanks, Dad, for leaving me a man-eating plant_. Little Shop of Horrors ain't got nothin' on me."

"Were you able to complete any of it?"

"No," admitted Dean. "Every time I tried, I'd just get really tired, or I'd get distracted. And I'm good with my hands, I like working, manual labor, that sort of thing. But I never managed to do any of it. I left the toolbox up the hill."

"That makes sense," said Castiel. "The first thing it wants to do is protect itself, and you making holes in it, or adding things to it, would not be acceptable to such a creature. What were you doing up the hill, anyway?"

Dean explained the shower, and seeing his dead mother in the well, with a mouth full of great white shark teeth.

"I thought I was going nuts," he said. "But I'd just been reading _Jaws,_ and I had that nightmare, so."

"Hmm," said Castiel. "Yes, maybe this was the cabin testing things out, seeing what kind of flavor it wanted to get from you."

"Well, I'm off the menu," said Dean. 

Now Castiel looked downright shifty.

"What aren't you telling me?" he asked.

"Well," said Castiel, "just as it was digesting you, it made it so you also need _it_ to survive. Parasite feeds off the host, but the host now needs the parasite."

Dean made an involuntary retching sound.

"Then get it off me!" he yelled. People turned to look at him again, and he waved them off impatiently.

"I can't," said Castiel. "That's why we had to get out of the range of its influence, but I couldn't risk you driving much further than here. You'll die."

"You're an _angel,_ Cas," said Dean. "You _gotta._ "

"I'm sorry, Dean," he said. "That's not in my power."

"Then how do we stop it?"

"We have to force it to let you go."

"How do we do that?"

"What does any plant fear the most?"

"A weed whacker."

Castiel closed his eyes in a _so this is who I have chosen as my life-mate_ expression.

"Besides that."

Dean thought about it.

Then he sat up.

"Fire."

***

Outside the diner, Dean was feeling much better than he had in days.

He knew it was the food, but he also felt that getting thoroughly fucked probably had something to do with it.

Not that he was about to mention that to Castiel, who was currently storming across the parking lot, the trenchcoat moving in the wind, his eyes on Dean.

"Hey Cas," said Dean. "Not for nothin', but the last time somebody looked at me like that, I got laid."

Castiel was all up in his business then, sniffing at his neck.

"Whoa there cowboy," said Dean, trying to push him off.

Castiel was solid as steel. He could no more shove him than he could shove a building.

"I know things have improved lately," said Dean quietly, "but this is still rural Northern Minnesota and you're wearing a dude."

Castiel backed off then, but Dean could hear a hint of that low growl in his throat.

"By the way," said Dean. "You never mentioned that you knew that old man at the Willow Store. I thought you'd never been there."

"I hadn't," said Castiel, looking across the highway at the store. "I've never seen that man in my life."

"Said he'd known you for ages," Dean told him. "He told me his name was Gabriel."

"Gabri-" Castiel's eyes narrowed. " _Gabriel._ "

Suddenly, he was walking across the highway toward the Willow Store as if he were going to smite it.

"Hey, wait up!" Dean yelled, and looked across the highway before sprinting across it.

Castiel hadn't even bothered to look.


	14. The Store

Dean watched in horror as some kind of long silver knife fell from Castiel's sleeve into his hand and he threw it with deadly precision.

"Cas, what the hell!" he shouted, as the whirring blade smashed through the glass display case right next to the old man's head.

Castiel stormed up to the register and grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him nose to nose.

"Gabriel," growled Castiel. Dean hurried up to them as the old man was waving his arms in terror.

"I don't know what you're talking about!" said the man. "Go ahead, take the money! Leave me alone!"

"Cas," said Dean urgently, tugging at his sleeve.

"Don't fuck with me right now, Gabriel," said Castiel, and Dean felt an involuntary shudder hearing Castiel use the word _fuck._

"Not sure this is a good idea, Cas!" Dean whispered urgently. "They're gonna call the cops!"

But Castiel, undeterred, just stared the old man down.

"Oh, all right, fine," said the old man, and Dean's jaw dropped as he changed into a much younger man with shaggy brown hair and dark eyes with a playful look to them. "How've you been, baby bro?"

Castiel let go of the man with a sound of disgust.

"Gabriel," said Dean. " _Gabriel the angel?_ "

"Give the kid a kewpie doll," said Gabriel, popping a sucker into his mouth. "And heyyy, Castiel! Newly mated, I see? Wedding bells? Who's the lucky -"

He stopped. He looked from Castiel to Dean and back again

"Wait," he said. " _No._ Really?! Cas, you dog!"

"You said he was _gone on me_ ," said Dean, a little out of sorts.

"Yeah, I meant like, as an _angel_ , not like - _mating_ ," laughed Gabriel. "Man, you are gonna have a hard time explaining this to the man upstairs."

"Gabriel," rumbled Castiel. "What are you doing here?"

"Vacation!" said Gabriel. "Just like you!"

"I'm not on vacation, I'm on a mission," said Castiel.

"Uh huh. And a little R and R time with your 'mission', that's all a part of the soldier's usual thing?" asked Gabriel. "I mean, congratulations. He's. Uh. Small?"

"Hey!" protested Dean.

"Kid. This creature is the size of the Chrysler Building stuffed into a human form," said Gabriel. "Not a comment on your masculinity, just straight-up facts."

Castiel had gone to retrieve his blade. He brought it to Gabriel's throat.

"Out with it," said Castiel. "I don't have patience for your games today."

"You sure drive a hard bargain," said Gabriel. "Honestly? Something seemed a little hinky over here, thought I'd check it out. Didn't realize I was just interrupting somebody's mating dance. I'll be going."

"What did you do with that nice old man?" demanded Dean.

Gabriel shrugged.

"Nothing," he said. "He's fine."

"Gabriel," Castiel warned.

Gabriel sighed. 

"Okay, _fine_ ," he said, and snapped his fingers.

Now they were all on the other side of the register. The old man was standing there, looking a little confused.

"Oh, hello boys," he said. "Sorry, was woolgatherin'. What can I do you for? Ice cream?"

"Sure thing, Pops," said Gabriel. 

"Taught these guys everything they know," he whispered conspiratorially.

"Huh," said the old man, staring at the shattered glass case. "Now when did that happen?"

He turned away to get a dustpan and broom, but when he'd turned back, it was intact again.

"Must be losin' my damned marbles," said the old man. "Well. It's been a while. Say, which flavors did you want?"

"Strawberry," said Gabriel, then to Cas, "Nice save, Mr. Fixit."

"Shut up," growled Castiel. "Cookies and cream please."

"Uh, I'll go for Red Velvet," said Dean. "You only live once."

The old man nodded, then was muttering to himself about how maybe Doris was right about seeing a doctor for a checkup.

Castiel turned to Gabriel again.

"I'm going to find out what you're up to," he said. 

"I mean, you're free to try," said Gabriel. "But I was telling the truth, for once. Seemed like a nice place."

"You don't find it suspicious that we're all here in the exact same rural location in the same country at the same time?"

Gabriel narrowed his eyes.

"Why?" he asked. "Something you're not tellin' me, baby bro?"

They stared at each other for a long time.

"I mean, if you want to fill me in on how the whole...mating... _thing_ works with a human, I'll make us popcorn," said Gabriel. "But I have a sneaking suspicion that you might be referring to something else. You're a soldier, Castiel, and a terrible liar. Something's going on here, isn't it?"

Castiel's suspicious expression finally fell.

"I may need your help."

Gabriel leaned forward.

"What was that?"

There was a cough. They all looked up to see the old man holding out the strawberry cone.

"Thanks, Isaac," said Gabriel, taking the cone. 

Isaac stared at him.

"How'd you know my name?"

"You look like an Isaac," said Gabriel.

He leaned towards Dean and winked. "I hope you survive it. I like you."

"Survive what?"

"The mating."

" _Gabriel._ "

"Okay, okay."

Dean took his own ice cream cone and handed Castiel's over to him. Then he paid, trailing the two angels out the door. Behind him, Dean could hear Isaac on the phone with the local doctor's office, making an appointment.

"Guys," said Dean as he joined them, "You gotta do something, that old man's gonna think he's gone nuts."

"Sure, whatever you say," said Gabriel, waving toward Isaac impatiently. The old man stared at the handset with some confusion, then shrugged and kept talking. "Now he doesn't think he's nuts, but Doris is right, he needs to get a checkup, okay? I'm not all bad. Sort of."

Then Gabriel turned to Castiel.

"So what's the problem? Fill me in."

Castiel outlined the situation as best he could. Gabriel inhaled his cone somehow, and this time Dean actually _saw_ Castiel blink the ice cream out of existence.

"Hey!" said Dean. "Least you could let someone else enjoy it."

"Don't worry, concubine, he'll be taking every opportunity to give you energy," said Gabriel. "Believe me, you're gonna need it."

Dean swallowed, eyes wide.

"So," Gabriel said, "You got your mission, Mr Doe-Eyes over here, and you just fall in unbelievable lust with him on sight?"

Gabriel stared at Dean. He had the distinct impression he was being checked out, but Gabriel's eyes didn't move from somewhere beneath his sternum.

Finally, he let out a long, low whistle.

" _Damn_ ," he said, looking at Castiel with renewed respect. "I mean this when I say it: _damn._ I'm sorry I didn't lay eyes on him first."

"Finders keepers," growled Castiel.

"Yeah, yeah," said Gabriel. "I get it. But you don't have to worry about me encroaching on your territory. And you're right, it's suspicious that we're all here together at once, and suddenly there's a creature almost as old as we are, long thought extinct? What's going on?"

"Exactly my question," said Castiel. "And there's the other matter, of course. I cannot bring Dean back to the cabin. It's not safe there."

"And you can't take him further away," said Gabriel. "Plus, what with the whole _mating_ situation, which - I mean, I get it now, but Cas. Talk about timing."

Castiel looked suitably embarrassed.

"I didn't know," he said. "I thought the house was haunted, maybe, nothing a little smiting can't fix."

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure that _carnivorous plant mimic_ was probably not on your list of ideas," said Gabriel. "How did you figure it out, anyway?"

"Dean," said Castiel. "His entire personality changed, not just inside the cabin but whenever he went near it. Plus, my - I - "

Gabriel grinned.

"Things not exactly working right?" he asked. Castiel just responded with a sharp nod.

"Hey," said Dean, feeling the need to come to Castiel's defense. "Things seemed to be working just fine to me back there."

"Oh, and you didn't notice a change in _Cas_ once you got far enough away, huh?" asked Gabriel. 

Dean thought of the frenzied, possessive encounter in the Impala, and said nothing.

"That's what I thought," said Gabriel. "Interesting. Do you have anything else? Clues, whatever."

"My mother died in a house fire," said Dean. "But our house, where she was supposed to have died - it's fine. I drove by there a few years ago. And my dad died in a car wreck during a storm, but that's the car - "

He pointed at Baby.

"Not a scratch on her. Sheriff came to tell me and my brother," Dean explained. "I don't know if that helps, but I saw a _lot_ of them in that cabin, or things to do with them. And then there was the journal."

"Journal?"

"Yeah," said Dean. "It kept getting new pages, some were written long after my Dad had passed away. Some of it was really nasty stuff about Cas."

"Can a plant do that?" asked Gabriel.

"No, they're just mimics," said Castiel. "They're clever, for their species, and they can cause hallucinations and projections. But I don't think they could do something like manipulate a journal."

"Hm," said Gabriel, finishing off his ice cream cone. "Then I think that there's more than one thing going on here. Beats me as to what, though."

"We also need to find a safe place," said Castiel, "so Dean can build up his strength again. He can't stay in the cabin."

"I'm sorry to tell you this, Cas, but he's gonna have to go back there eventually," said Gabriel. "That confrontation has to happen between him and the creature alone. And, you know. Make sure you're not thinking with your downstairs brain right now. It's tough, early on in mating. And later, to be honest, if you land someone like this pretty little thing."

Dean just looked away, not enjoying the _pretty_ comment.

"I'm not!" said Castiel. "Well. Maybe. A little. But either way, he needs to recuperate."

"Are you going to be able to let him?"

Castiel shot daggers at him.

"All right, all right, don't throw your blade again," he said. "Who knew you'd get so bitchy when you finally got mated? Ah, who am I kidding, you've always been a grumpy little bird."

" _Gabriel._ Stop testing my patience!"

"Right. Okay. So there's a house up the road from here, in the woods. The one with the sigils, can't miss it. You should be safe there for the time being. I'm gonna go investigate the place, try not to make it too suspicious. Then I'm gonna ask around. I'll come back with news. And I'll, uh, keep my distance until you give me the all-clear, okay?"

Castiel nodded sharply again.

Then Gabriel reached out and squeezed his arm.

"Be careful," he said. "Whatever is going on, it's very weird, and very old. Even an old soldier like you might be in over your head. Take good care of yourself, and your concubine, okay? Be back in two shakes of a lamb's tail."

"You take care of yourself too," said Castiel, and Dean was surprised to see the cameraderie there.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you two cared about each other," said Dean. "He's a handful, huh?"

"You don't know the half of it," said Castiel.

"Now what?"

"We return to the diner."

"But we were just there."

"Yes, and you've spent several days without food."

"If you cram too much food into a starving man, they'll die, Cas."

"You won't die. I promise."

"So are you just fattening me up to eat me?"

"Something like that."

***

Back in the diner, Castiel luxuriated against his chair. There was something very puffed-out and proud about his behavior.

"If I could see your wings and tail right now," said Dean, "would you be displaying them for everyone? Just because your brother agrees that I'm hot, or whatever?"

Castiel cupped his coffee mug in both hands.

"Maybe," he said.

"And by the way, what's with all this _mate, mating,_ crap?" asked Dean. "I didn't agree to that."

"Hush, mate," said Castiel mildly. "Eat. We leave soon, and I need you to build your strength."

Dean surprised himself when he didn't respond, just bowed his head and dug into his pancakes.


	15. Out of Depth

The door of the cabin closed.

"Wow," said Dean. "Your brother sure has expensive taste."

Far from the 70s aesthetic of his own cabin, this place _gleamed_. It had a similar log-cabin style, but the ultramodern kitchen and fireplace were in a league of their own. 

In the center of the living room floor was a fur rug, and various huge pillows for sitting.

There was a grand bedroom off to the side with a balcony overlooking the forest.

And there was Castiel, scenting his neck, that low growl rumbling in his throat.

"Whoa," said Dean. "Hang on a sec, Cas, I - "

"Strip and get on all fours," he directed. "Do it now."

Dean gaped at him.

" _Now,_ Dean."

Dean was surprised to find himself doing exactly as he was told. Castiel just stood there, coolly staring at him, as Dean's body was revealed to his gaze.

"On the rug."

Dean could feel the blush heating up his entire body as he got onto his hands and knees. The rug was soft, at least.

Castiel snapped his fingers. Instantly there was a fire in the fireplace, dancing across the planes of Dean's body.

"For a guy who was so damned eager before," said Dean, "you're sure as hell takin' your time now."

"I wanted to revel in you, Dean," said Castiel, walking around him slowly. "Look at my beautiful mate. You are exquisite."

"Aw, c'mon, Cas - "

"Did I say you could speak?" Cas demanded. Dean shut up. "You'll be making noise soon enough."

"Promises, promises," muttered Dean.

Castiel bent down and looked Dean directly in the eye. Dean held his gaze for a moment, and then looked down at the floor.

Then, Castiel began to strip. He removed his clothing slowly, dropping it all around Dean as if it were a way to stake his claim. 

Dean looked up at him, glorious and naked in the flickering firelight, just as confident out of his clothes as he was inside them. He saw the strong warrior of God there, and wondered, not for the first time, if he'd gotten himself in over his head.

The look Castiel was giving him now, filled with a possessive sort of fury, told him that he was so far over his head he was at the bottom of the Mariana Trench.

_"I hope you survive. I like you."_

He'd thought Gabriel was joking.

Then Castiel spread those huge, beautiful wings. The soaring cathedral ceiling of the house made it possible, as the roof was several feet above his wingtips. 

But Dean, faced with all the power and glory that was Castiel, shrank back and placed his forehead on the ground.

This seemed to be the right thing to do, because the low rumble that had been emanating from Castiel changed in pace and pitch. He made a sound between a gasp and a moan, and Dean took a chance and looked up at those wings again, making enormous shadows on the ceiling.

But Castiel just stood there, wings in display, staring down at Dean.

Dean was starting to feel self-conscious.

He was also starting to feel a little afraid, standing at the edge of a precipice he didn't understand, and one that no human in centuries had experienced.

"Shh. Don't tremble, beloved."

Castiel's strong hand caressed his back, and Dean calmed as Castiel leaned down and laid kisses all the way along his spine, then nipping at his neck. 

"Good," whispered Castiel. "Good, little mate. Stay exactly as you are."

Dean's cock was hard and drooling precome onto the rug. Castiel's hand brushed against it and Dean whimpered.

He felt Castiel's proud chuckle soft against his skin. 

"That's perfect," he cooed. "You're perfect, Dean."

Dean didn't respond. He just _wanted._

No matter how this went, he had to know what it was like, having been given a preview in the car. Maybe he was crazy, foolish, reckless - but he trusted Castiel.

The angel draped his body over Dean's, and those huge wings came down to rest on the floor. Castiel's hard cock nestled against him. Neither of them moved. Dean was imbued with a sense of awe and reverence, utter certainty that he could never even approach understanding this being of heavenly wrath.

He breathed.

Castiel breathed.

It was the calm before the storm.

And all at once, he understood Gabriel's words too well; he understood that Castiel had been holding back, even in the Impala. Because he wasn't holding back anymore.

Castiel reared up and laid a hand on Dean's lower back. He felt those tingling lightning bolts inside him and realized that he was being prepped. At first, he thought it was because Castiel intended to take his time, take it slow.

He realized quickly that he had done it for the entirely opposite reason.

The storm broke, and Dean knew what it meant to bow before the angel Castiel.

With a roar, Castiel thrust into him, fucking hard and fast. The wings flapped a little as he brought himself off suddenly, coming hard inside of Dean. He could feel the angel's cock throb with his come. 

Dean felt a little disappointed, but he put it down to the angel-mating behavior, thinking it was over -

but this was apparently just Castiel gearing up, because he picked up thrusting again and came _again_ inside of Dean.

" _Unh, fuck,_ so pure, so perfect," Castiel breathed, still moving in quick little fucks inside him. " _ **Unh, fuck!** "_

He had come again, and Dean was definitely out of his depth here, filled by his angel over and over.

Castiel didn't stop, it was like he couldn't. He grabbed Dean's cock, making him shout and spurt helplessly onto the rug. 

None of this seemed to dissuade Castiel. He pulled Dean up against him, flush with his body, all the while his cock still pumping relentlessly into Dean.

"Oh, beloved," Castiel whispered, his lips grazing Dean's ear. "You will give me everything, won't you? All of you."

"Yeah, Cas," mumbled Dean. "Anything you want."

Castiel reached down and pulled at Dean's oversensitive cock. Dean yelped, but found himself getting hard again.

"Come for me," said Castiel, and Dean made a pathetic sound as he watched come spurt and ooze out of his cock. "Yes."

He gathered up the come and smeared it onto the skin of Dean's stomach as he held him, then grunted when he came again.

Dean could feel the thick, strange throb of Castiel's cock deep inside him, he could feel the come moving in thick, round pulses up through his dick. He'd never felt anything like it, and every time he felt it again he cried out, throwing his head back against Castiel's shoulder.

"So desperate," crooned Castiel. "Don't worry, my love, I am too."

Castiel managed to turn Dean around, plunging into him again the moment he was on his back.

"Ah, fuck!" Dean shouted. Castiel just stared down into Dean's eyes, his huge wings raised high above them both.

"I love the way you submit to me," said Castiel. "Beautiful mate."

Dean remembered his dream.

He reached up and around Castiel's back, and was rewarded with the feel of a thick, warm oil.

He slid his palms up and found their source at the base of his wings, and pressed there.

Castiel screamed.

He grabbed Dean and fucked into him so hard that Dean was screaming too. Castiel's teeth were clenched, his eyes dilated, and then he went off like a rocket. 

Dean took a huge gasping breath as he felt that sensation of Castiel coming again, but this time the strange pulses were huge and thick, almost to his breaking point.

"Oh my God, Cas," he panted. He was dimly aware of pain, and of being filled, but he couldn't even think anymore. 

He took another huge, shuddering breath, and blacked out.

***

Dean woke some time later. Castiel had not stopped, and was still fucking into his prone body. Dean was vaguely aware of his own cock, hard and heavy against his stomach, and his whine as he came again for Castiel, the orgasm dry and almost painful.

But he loved it, every second of it, he loved being so helpless and thoroughly owned by a creature completely beyond his ken.

Castiel, for his part, was mindless and insatiable. He just turned Dean over again and continued. 

Dean could feel the overflow of Castiel's come dripping out of him, messy and disgusting, but it didn't seem to dissuade the angel at all. Castiel pushed his face down into the rug, pulled his hips flush with Castiel's, and moaned loudly as he came again deep inside of Dean. That pulsing sensation set off a chain reaction in Dean, who came again, and was now weeping, coughing and drooling, as Castiel renewed his claim over and over again.

He thought, if he died like this, it wasn't the worst way to go.

***

"Cas," Dean begged. "Cas. You gotta - "

Castiel seemed to get the picture, and with reluctance, pulled his cock out of Dean.

Exhausted, Dean collapsed on the rug, covered in fluids and feeling everything ooze out of him.

Castiel was somehow still hard. Dean stared at his cock, uncomprehending, and Castiel quickly climbed over him, put his knees beneath Dean's underarms, and stripped his cock, coming all over Dean's face with a loud cry.

Dean blinked up at him. Castiel stared down, a proud, smug expression he was getting used to by this point.

"Can you - Cas," Dean complained.

"I like seeing you covered in my spend," Castiel told him. "Filthy. You look good like this, Dean."

"Okay," said Dean. "But I gotta go clean myself up, I need a break."

Castiel looked like he was about to argue, but nodded. Then, with a wave of his hand, the mess disappeared.

"Thanks," said Dean, and he managed to get up and hobble to the bathroom.

Just before he walked inside, he looked back at Castiel, whose hand was on his cock again.

"Insatiable," said Dean, and walked into the bathroom.

***

Dean stared at himself in the mirror.

He was absolutely _covered_ in hickeys and bruises, bites, everywhere Castiel wanted to lay his claim. And it was like he had wanted to get that claim on every square inch of Dean.

He ached, in the best possible way. Castiel had been fucking him nonstop for hours. This might become a problem.

Dean leaned into the shower and turned on the spray. He just needed a little time to think, to get his head together.

He'd never felt so perfectly comfortable in a submissive role before, but it seemed to come naturally to him with Castiel. Then again, the human/angel dynamic might have made it easier for him to surrender that control. He sighed. He really hoped it didn't kill him, because this was some of the best sex of his _life._

After cleaning himself, he stepped out of the shower and toweled off.

He opened the door to find Castiel waiting for him in the master bedroom.

"Come, beloved," said the angel, and Dean went willingly.

***

Some days passed in this way.

Dean lost count.

***

It was somewhere around the fifth day, he thought, that another episode occurred.

Dean had passed out, and this time it took much longer for Castiel to bring him back.

When he finally opened his eyes, Castiel's face filled his vision, deep concern in his blue eyes.

"Dean?" he asked doubtfully.

Dean could see him, hear him, but when he tried to move his hand or to answer, nothing happened.

He sensed Castiel leave in a rush of wings, and return with something that smelled _delicious._

"I got you grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato basil soup?" said Castiel. "Please wake up, Dean."

He pulled Dean's body onto his own, covering himself with a blanket (though he was still hard, Dean noted; he wondered how long it took for angels to finally be satisfied). 

Then he began to spoon-feed him soup, which Dean was barely capable of swallowing.

He got some water and soup down, and then passed out again.

***

It was night when he opened his eyes again.

He felt a little better.

"Ouch," said a voice. "This is _bad,_ Castiel. You need to play nicely with your toys, or you're gonna break them."

Dean felt something like those little lightning bolts, but this time it felt like being electrocuted.

"Holy shit," said Dean, sitting up in bed.

He looked up at Gabriel, who was grinning his head off, and Castiel, who was ashen.

" _Dean_ ," said Castiel in relief, swooping down on him and kissing his eyelids, his lips, his forehead.

"Young angels," said Gabriel, shaking his head. "Completely out of control with the hormones."

"Thank you, Gabriel," said Castiel.

"Yeah, thanks," said Dean, his voice rough.

"Anytime, lovebirds," said Gabriel. "It's good that you called, anyway. Apart from my having to revive your mate, really, Cas! I know he's hot but you don't need to go completely insane."

"I'm sorry, Dean," said Castiel. "I'm so sorry, I tried to get you food, I realized that I hadn't fed you in a few days, I can't believe I forgot -"

"That's what you get for thinking with your dick," said Gabriel. Castiel shot him a look.

" _All_ you do is think with your dick," he snapped.

"Well, yeah," said Gabriel happily, undeterred. "That means I don't go into overdrive and nearly kill my partner, _twice,_ because I haven't gotten any in, well, ever. I indulge a healthy amount so I don't go bananas."

"Yes, Gabriel, I take your point," said Castiel testily. "What is it you wanted to tell us?"

"Well, I asked around," he said. "Nobody knows a damned thing, not in Heaven or Hell or Purgatory. If they do, they ain't talkin'. But when I went out to the cabin for a little tête-à-tête confrontation, you'll never guess what I found."

"What?" asked Dean.

"I ran into my own tall, human, and handsome," said Gabriel. "Either of you know somebody named Sam?"


	16. Histories

"I gotta go! Sammy's not safe out there!"

"You don't _gotta_ do anything, bitesize," said Gabriel, shoving Dean right back down.

He was so weak, he buckled and collapsed onto the bed.

"Castiel, shame on you!" Gabriel scolded. Castiel stared at the ground. "Look what you've done! Cas, he's _human_ , you can't just -"

Then Gabriel sighed in exasperation and patted him on the back.

"We'll have to talk about the birds and bees later," said Gabriel. "I would've discussed it more while you were growing up, but of all angels in Heaven, I didn't expect _you_ to be the unconventional rebel. You were always such an obedient little worker bee."

Gabriel tossed a glance at Dean.

"Then again," he mused, "I never saw anything like _that_ before, or his brother. So I can't say I blame you. But Dean's right. Someone has to make sure his brother doesn't get eaten alive."

"I'll go," offered Castiel.

"You will _not_ ," said Gabriel. "First of all, you need to nurse Dean here back to health. Yes, I can help with the healing but this isn't the same thing! First the guy gets starved by a carnivorous plant and then by his overeager virgin angel boyfriend."

Castiel gave Dean a mournful look.

"I didn't mean to."

"And that's exactly why you are going to learn the care and keeping of humans," said Gabriel. "Besides, do _you_ want me nursing _your mate_ back to health?"

The sharp look Castiel gave him was all the answer he needed.

"Right," said Gabriel. "Then I'll go. He thinks I'm a local fisherman, since the tourists are finally arriving. I don't think he's suspicious. Yet."

"But -" Dean managed. 

He wanted to protest, to say he could go with Gabriel, but when he tried to stand up again, he fell back onto the bed.

Gabriel knelt down.

"Dean, you need to get your strength back," he said. "But please don't worry, in the meantime. Your brother will have the protection of an archangel, although he won't know it."

Dean just nodded. He understood what Gabriel was saying, and that he was right, but _take care of Sammy_ was such a basic part of his personality that it felt strange assigning that task to someone else for now.

"Okay," said Gabriel. "I'm off. Castiel, are you _sure_ that you can keep it to yourself for the next few days?"

"Days?" asked Castiel, as if it would truly be a hardship for him not to be nailing Dean all the time.

" _Yes,_ Castiel, _days_ ," said Gabriel. "Look at him, he's all off balance and keeling over. I've left you food and water in the fridge, and it's _my_ food so he'll love it."

"You eat garbage," said Castiel.

"Yes I do, and so does Dean," said Gabriel. "We are fellow garbage-tarians. Just trust me, okay? And _hands off_!"

"Okay," said Castiel, looking sheepish.

"If you get into trouble, _call me_ ," said Gabriel. "Don't worry too much, kiddo. Your brother's easy on the eyes, it won't be a hardship for me. And he's in good hands. I'll be checking in again."

Gabriel stared Castiel down.

"I'll be good," he promised.

"You better be," said Gabriel. "I don't want to come back and find the place trashed, okay? _Or_ Dean! Because if you kill him then I can't fix him. Got it?"

"Got it," mumbled Castiel.

Gabriel blinked out of sight.

***

"Here, Dean," said Castiel, holding him up. "Gabriel left you some cheeseburgers. If you finish the soup, maybe we can try those later. He wrote me a note that said _make sure he gets solid food._ "

"You guys treat me like a pet," complained Dean. 

"I'm sorry," said Castiel. "I didn't know."

"Can we rest for a while?"

"Anything."

Dean curled up against Castiel. That low purr started up again, and Dean hid a smile in Castiel's chest.

"Tell me about your life," he murmured. "Tell me about Heaven."

Castiel pressed a kiss into his hair, and Dean could feel him smile.

"Gabriel is my brother," he began. "Well, all angels call each other _brother_ and _sister_ , but it's more like a nickname. Gabriel is my actual brother, in the sense that he raised me. Helped me through my first molt, taught me about the world."

"Guess I had something similar with Sammy."

"I was alone before you," Castiel said softly. "Angels aren't meant to be alone. I would perch in the trees here, sometimes - and weep."

"Why?"

"Loneliness," said Castiel, and there was more in that stark confession than Dean had expected.

"Aw, Cas," said Dean. "I'm here now. I was alone, too. But now, neither of us have to be lonely. Ever again. An' I don't - I'm, uh. I'm okay with being your mate. "

He took a deep breath.

"Really."

The purr increased in vibrancy and volume, and eventually, Dean fell asleep in Castiel's arms.

***

"Do you look like one of those Carnival dancers, Cas? In your true form, with the tailfeathers?"

"Rest, Dean."

"Okay."

***

A few days later, Gabriel returned.

He looked at Dean and pronounced him healthy.

"Good job, baby bro," said Gabriel. "You restrained yourself."

"It wasn't easy," said Castiel, his eyes owlish.

"I understand," said Gabriel. "All right, I think it's time proper introductions were made."

"I'm driving," said Dean.

"Maybe me or Castiel -"

" _I'm driving._ "

Castiel turned to Gabriel.

"Perhaps you can educate me as to the human significance of cars."

"That's not a human thing, little brother. That's all Dean."

***

In the car, Gabriel kept up a chirpy dialogue that was _really_ starting to get on Dean's last nerve.

"Did you know that birds masturbate?" he asked brightly. "And of course bird-design is based on us. Castiel was _impossible_ when he was -"

" _Gabriel -_ " Castiel warned.

"I mean, I was _surprised_ when I saw you in such a bad way, Dean, but really I should've _known -_ "

"Shut up," said Castiel.

"Brothers," said Dean, and he grinned.

Nothing was going to get him down. He was going to see Sam again.

He just hoped it would be better than last time.

***

" _Dean?_ "

"Hiya, Sammy."

Sam ran full tilt across the lawn and threw himself into his brother's arms.

"Thank God you're all right."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Sam just stared at him. He was dressed like a normal person again, in a t-shirt and jeans (although Dean had a sneaking suspicion they were some fancy name-brand, and by that he didn't mean Levis). 

He looked, well, like _Sam_ again.

"I - I don't know," Sam faltered. "I just got this _really intense_ feeling a while ago, like you needed my help. And in my dreams, I kept hearing you yelling for me, _Sam!_ And I'd wake up and have coffee and think it was some kind of residual guilt, but the feeling was really insistent. I wasn't sure what to do because I had no idea where you were. But I figured I'd start here. And here you are."

He gave Castiel and Gabriel a questioning look.

"Do you know these guys?" he asked. "One of them's a fisherman, he's been by a few times. Gabriel, right?"

Gabriel was staring directly at Sam's sternum.

Sam coughed.

"I feel really weird saying this, but, uh," he said, "my eyes are up here."

"Oh, I know they are," said Gabriel, his gaze fixed.

"Ignore him," said Dean. "Or, don't. Sam, you're in danger. We both are."

"We all are," ground out Castiel.

"This is Cas," said Dean. "Castiel - "

"I'm his mate."

Sam looked at the three of them, Castiel's stormcloud expression, Dean's earnest face, and Gabriel, still staring directly at the center of his chest.

"You're gonna have to start at the beginning."

***

They all dragged chairs in front of the firepit, as the only place on the property Gabriel declared "somewhat safe, I think" and Dean outlined the issue in a hushed voice.

Sam went from incredulity, to suspicion, to a sort of low-simmering fear. He kept casting glances back at the cabin.

"And these guys, well," finished Dean. "They're angels. I was Castiel's 'mission', whatever that means. And we're, uh. Kinda together. For real."

"Bless," said Gabriel.

"Okay," said Sam, taking a deep breath. "There's - a lot to take in here. Dean, I didn't realize you were gay."

"Bi," corrected Dean. "And yeah, I'm sorry I never told you, but let's hold off on the confetti and Pride parade for the moment, okay? Right now we need to fix this."

"How do we fix it?"

"I must say," said Gabriel in a charming voice, "you certainly are taking all this in your stride, handsome."

"What's _with_ this guy?" asked Sam, jabbing a thumb in his direction.

"Apparently we have _really_ hot souls," said Dean. "Don't ask. But yeah, why _are_ you taking this so well? Bigshot California lawyer, usually really suspicious about anything that seems - well - suspicious."

Sam sighed.

"Because I've been seeing things too," he said.

***

**_What Sam Saw_ **

"I got here about a week ago, I think," said Sam. "Maybe less? I noticed things had been disturbed. The record player was in the sauna for some reason. Dad's journal was on the table."

"You didn't read it, did you?"

"Of course I read it."

"And?"

"There was nothing in there. Just a couple things about groceries."

Dean and Castiel exchanged a look.

"Go on, Sam," Gabriel encouraged.

"But it was the weirdest thing," said Sam. "I saw that the dreamcatcher was back up on the hook above your bed. A few other things had been moved around since the last time I was here, but I figured either I wasn't remembering right or maybe someone had decided to live here in our absence."

"Same thing I thought, at first," said Dean.

"Then, every night I'd go to bed," Sam continued, "I'd see this _shape_ in Mom and Dad's bed. At first, I thought I was hallucinating. Some of these old places, whether it's mold, or it's asbestos - you can never tell. But it was obvious someone had cleaned the house recently, so I wasn't sure."

He rubbed his hands on his jeans, staring down at them. Then he looked up again, and Dean was shocked to see that tears were in his eyes.

"Then I saw - I saw -," he stuttered. "It was your body, Dean. Your _dead_ body. It was - "

He made a strange noise in his throat, a strangled sort of gasp.

"But it vanished," said Sam. "I was just - I was _so afraid_ that I was gonna find you dead, Dean. I've been afraid of it for _years_ , you just fall out of touch and you - I don't know where you _are_ -"

Dean was horrified at how things had taken a turn for the sappy at an alarming rate.

"Shh, hey," Dean said, putting his arm around his brother's shoulder. "I'm here, I'm okay. Not dead. See?"

"You _raised_ me," said Sam. "And you - I just love you _so much_ -"

"Whoa, okay," said Dean, now very uncomfortable. Sam pressed his teary eyes into Dean's shoulder and hiccuped. "It's okay. You're okay, Sam."

But Sam wasn't finished.

"I'm so sorry about how Mom and Dad treated you," he said. 

Dean froze.

"You noticed?"

"Of course I noticed," said Sam, sniffling. "You're my brother."

"Aw," said Gabriel. "Brotherly love. Ain't nothin' like it in the world."

He squeezed Castiel until he squeaked.


	17. The Fire

"Why's he so weepy?"

Dean looked over at Gabriel and Castiel. Sam was sobbing quietly into his shoulder.

"I mean, he was always a sensitive kid, but this is not the same thing," he said.

"Maybe the cabin has an appetite. It got thwarted. Now it wants Sam."

"Well it can't have him!" Dean exploded. 

Gabriel shot him a look.

"Pipe down, bitesize," he said. "You're at ground zero here. We want this to be a surprise."

"So what, we start a fire and kick it over or something?"

"Something," said Gabriel. "You're up."

Dean bent over to light the fire.

A low growling purr started up behind him.

"Oh my _God,_ Castiel, will you put a lid on it?" asked Gabriel. "We are in _public!_ "

The growl cut off. Dean had the distinct sense of embarrassment emanating from Cas.

A fire started up in the firepit. Dean kept an eye on the cabin. Nothing too strange or untoward happened, but he didn't get the sense that it was paying much attention to them.

He also noticed that he wasn't feeling anything in regards to the place either.

Then he hit on the reason.

_It got to Sam,_ thought Dean. _It didn't need me anymore, so it let me go._

"Let me go over there," said Dean. "We can't be sure unless the fire gets to the cabin. From all the way over here - we can't be sure."

"It's a living, breathing thing, Dean. After a fashion. And it's sentient."

"Then let me go."

"Clearly a lot of supernatural creatures want to sink their teeth into you," said Gabriel. "Not that I blame them, but maybe we should - "

"Dean," said Castiel, grabbing his arm. "Dean, no. Let us do it. We're angels."

"You said before that I had to confront it myself?" said Dean. Gabriel nodded, looking ill. "Otherwise it wouldn't let me go? Well, now it has Sam. Both of us, or none of us."

He reached out and grabbed Castiel's hand.

"I'll be right back," he promised. "C'mon, Sam."

He lifted a torch from the fire and turned.

"Godspeed," said Gabriel. Dean nodded.

He walked forward, one foot in front of the other, with Sam at his side because he refused to let him go.

***

Dean thought, as he walked, about how this creature was just about as old as Gabriel and Castiel.

And like both Gabriel and Castiel, it had such a humble exterior, hiding the wild underneath.

_Underneath._

Dean remembered the shambling monster in the shape of his father, and what it had said.

"Thanks, Dad," he said aloud, and threw the torch into the leaf litter underneath the cabin.

***

The fire raged, licking up the side of the cabin.

Sam and Dean watched it burn.

"I don't know what I expected," said Dean, watching the flames. "Something, I don't know. A reaction. But it's just - burning."

"Well, you said it was a plant, right?" reasoned Sam. "Plants don't really react, do they?"

"Yeah, but it's also sentient and carnivorous," said Dean. "You wouldn't think it'd let go so easy."

There was a shout behind them.

The brothers turned.

There was an enormous wall of flame coming up behind them.

"Run!" yelled Dean, shoving Sam in front of him.

He cast a desperate look at the flames.

They were cut off from Gabriel and Castiel.

***

"In the lake! Get into the lake!"

The fire was really roaring now, and it seemed almost alive, jumping in their way, cutting off any routes of escape. Dean was not at his best, and he could feel himself weakening, partly due to the smoke and partly due to the cabin's proximity.

Apparently, it hadn't let him go after all.

Coughing and spluttering, Dean finally just gave Sam a massive push, and he was rewarded with the sound of his brother hitting the water.

"Sam," he croaked. "Swim out, far as you can! Get out of here!"

Dean saw the fire circle around him. 

He collapsed to the ground.

"Cas, I'm sorry," he said. "I'm so glad we met."

And he was lost to the world.

***

Dean blinked awake.

He was laying on something hard. 

The fire was still roaring, only feet away, it seemed.

A very grumpy-looking man he had never seen before was staring into his face.

Dean blinked again.

The man adjusted a little red stocking cap with a white puff at the end and nodded. He seemed to have a perpetual frown.

_Thank you for the bowls of milk,_ clearly floated across Dean's consciousness.

Then the man turned around and walked right back into the flames.

_Thanks, saunatonttu,_ thought Dean.

_But you had better be going_ , was the next clear thought, with the general concept of shoving him off the dock into the water.

Dean shucked off his jeans and his shoes. He coughed again, but managed to roll himself over the dock and into the water with a splash. It wasn't cold, given the proximity of the flames.

He grabbed the jeans and tied them off at the ends, making a makeshift lifejacket. Then he grabbed his hiking boots, which he figured he might need later, and kicked away from the dock into the water.

"Sam?" he called, coughing again. "Sam?"

There was no response.


	18. PART II: The Chalet

PART II

" - _ean?_ "

Dean swam out into the lake, further and further away from the conflagration. The lake was empty of cabins, for the most part, but it was much longer than it was wide.

"Sam!" Dean yelled again.

"Dean!" Sam called, and now he could see his brother's head bobbing up and down in the distance.

He kicked toward him.

"Oh, Dean, thank God you're okay!" Sam said. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Dean said. "But the fire is huge and it's eating up the woods on both sides of the lake! I think we're going to have to swim to the other side."

" _Down_ the lake?" asked Sam. "Dean, there's nothing down there but woods! You know that."

"And there's nothing here but fire," Dean reasoned.

"What about those guys, those angels?" asked Sam. "Can't they, I don't know, swoop in here and save us?"

"I don't know," admitted Dean. "Maybe not? I mean, birds can't fly over fires, and they're kind of like birds. A _lot_ like birds. Wild animals. In some ways."

Even in this situation, that made Sam grin.

"Care to tell me in what ways exactly?"

"Shut up."

They both stared at where the cabin had been, an enormous fire roaring in its place.

"Hard to imagine," said Sam. "All those memories."

"Yeah," Dean agreed.

They were silent, considering the long history of that place and the memories, bad and good, that were gone with it.

"It's kind of a pity," said Sam. "That thing was so old, and they said it was supposed to be extinct. We might've killed the last one on earth."

"No tears for something that nearly ate us both alive," said Dean. "All right, we'd better get a move on. I've already had smoke inhalation and the longer we stick around, the worse it's gonna be."

"Do you think the Impala -"

There was a slight splash as Dean held up a watery hand.

"Do not," he said. "I need to be able to go on, and - just. Do not."

"Roger that," said Sam, and they began to swim for the darkness of the distant shore.

***

Dean splashed out of the water onto the sandy strip of beach. Sam slogged up to the shore and stripped out of his own pants.

"Didn't I ever teach you about using your pants as a lifejacket?" asked Dean.

In the low light from the moon, Dean was thrilled to see Sam's epic bitchface.

"I wasn't really thinking about it, what with the wildfire and everything," he said. "Besides, we weren't going far."

"Jeans'll weigh you down and drown you," said Dean. "And if I passed out from smoke inhalation I didn't want to drown that way either."

"Well, you've had more opportunities for survivalist experience than I have," said Sam.

"Yeah, because I can't just buy my way out of my problems," said Dean.

He braced for a fight, but Sam just sighed like all the wind had gone out of his sails.

"Can you light a fire?"

Dean reached into one of his shoes, which he had been carrying in one hand above the water, and triumphantly pulled out a zippo lighter.

"I thought ahead."

"You don't know how to light a fire without it?"

"Sure I do. Takes a long time though. But it's a warm night. Just take your stuff off and dry out."

"Okay."

So they both did exactly that, while Dean waited for the lighter to dry off, and they watched as the distant forest was consumed by flames.

***

"Gotcha."

A flame leapt up from the zippo, and Dean lit the little triangle of wood in the firepit he had made.

After a minute or so, he was rewarded with leaping flames.

"Oh, thank God," said Sam, and he crouched next to the fire. Dean set their stuff nearby to dry out.

"We can't stay here long, Sam," he told his brother. "I'd normally start building some kind of shelter, but that fire is out of control and it'll reach here eventually."

"What do you suggest? Building a boat?"

Dean scanned the woods behind them.

"I don't suppose your phone survived."

"Not without a bag of rice for days to dry it out."

"Damn."

"You could try praying to the angels," Sam suggested.

"Oh."

Huh. He hadn't even thought of that. It was just _get Sammy and get out._

"Hey Cas, you got your ears on?" he said aloud, feeling very stupid. "We're alive. We made it down the lake, the little sand beach. If you hear this come on over and pick us up. Uh, this is Dean."

He opened one eye. Then he opened the other.

Everything remained the same.

"Maybe he can't hear me," said Dean. "I'll try again in the morning. We should get some sleep."

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"Yeah," said Dean. "I'll be staying awake."

"Dean, you can't - "

"We'll take it in shifts," said Dean. "Stick close to the fire so you don't get cold. Now get some rest."

***

Dean went searching for more wood to stack onto the fire, which he found a little ridiculous since the entire forest was burning not too far away.

He wondered if Castiel couldn't hear prayers, or if there was something preventing him.

The strangest part of all this was that it had rained fairly frequently lately. Most of what he was finding turned out to be damp. So how was that fire raging?

He didn't know for certain, but he was starting to get the definite impression that there was something supernatural going on. And by that he did not just mean the things he'd been getting up to with Castiel.

His hand hit something solid in the darkness.

He stared at it. 

"Maybe it's my imagination but it feels like - "

He reached beneath it and pulled.

" _A canoe!"_

He raced back to the fire pit to wake Sam.

***

"Sam, wake up!"

Sam mumbled in his sleep and rolled over.

"Sam!"

His brother opened an eye.

"Whuh?"

"Sam, I found a canoe. We need to get moving. I don't know how fast that fire is going to spread but we've got a way out of here and we're going to take it."

Sam squinted at him.

"Canoe?" he asked. "But how is that going to help? This is a lake, Dean."

"Yeah, but do you remember how Dad used to take us down those little channels?" Dean asked. "To the other lakes?"

"Oh!" said Sam, sitting up. "Yeah, barely. I was pretty young then. I kind of remember seeing bald eagles and waterlilies."

"Exactly," said Dean. "And some of those channels lead to other lakes. Which -"

"Have cabins, and roads, and _other people_ ," said Sam, grinning.

He got to his feet and felt his clothes.

"They're still a little damp, but not too bad," he said.

"As long as we get out of the path of that fire, I'm fine with being a little waterlogged," said Dean.

***

They slid the canoe out into the water.

Dean had been very happy to discover that there were in fact paddles sitting under the canoe.

"Must be someone's boat they left for when they visit this beach," said Sam. "I hope we can pay them back one day."

"Always the philanthropist," said Dean. "You can hand out money once we survive this thing."

Vaguely, he hoped that Castiel and Gabriel were safe.

The channels were at the extreme end of the lake, but Dean found the entrance right away.

"It's not getting in here that's the problem," he explained to Sam. "It's finding your way to the other lakes. Some of these are dead ends."

"Hey," said Sam, pointing. "Look at that."

In the early light of dawn, they saw a little cabin set back into the woods. It was on stilts, and roses climbed up the walls. There was an arched trellis and it was covered in ivy and flowers.

Dean let out a low whistle.

"Somebody's got money," he said.

"It's really beautiful," said Sam. "Do you think - "

"What?"

"Maybe we could go knock on the door. Maybe they have a phone."

"Seriously? You want to go right back into a cabin after what just happened?"

"What's the alternative?"

"We find a road somewhere."

"And then what? Walk? We don't know how long that's going to take, and we're going to have to approach a cabin at some point. This one looks really nice."

"Okay," said Dean, skeptical. "Hansel and Gretel ass lookin' thing."

"Maybe there's a witch inside who will fatten you up."

"Don't tempt me."

"Not _everything_ that's nice is suspicious, Dean."

"Says the guy who drives a scooter."

"It's a _Prius,_ Dean, it's good for the environment."

"If you say so."

***

They drew the canoe up to the dock in front of the little Swiss chalet. 

Dean had to admit it was nice. _Really_ nice.

In fact, it was just the kind of place he dreamed about in his private fantasies of someday. A yard with a lot of flowers, like he'd seen in magazines about English gardens. (Sue him. He went to doctor's offices sometimes and those magazines were just there. It was boring waiting otherwise, okay?) 

The problem was that Dean never knew when he'd suddenly get the itch to take off again. It was in his blood, in his nature. Sailors talk about the sea the way that Dean dreamed of the road. Every house was just a house, not a home - a brief respite and a roof over his head. For many years he'd wondered if it made him weird, that he was more comfortable on the move. Other people sure liked to pressure him and talk about how _relieved_ they were for him whenever he happened to land somewhere for a while. Thing was, it was _their_ relief and not his own. It chafed at him. It made him unhappy. Like a wild animal caged. Home, for Dean, was the road, and probably always would be.

But there were certain places he liked to return to time after time. Bars, restaurants, a particularly nice motel.

 _Maybe I can have both, someday_ , had sometimes crossed his mind.

But that would mean a partner who didn't mind his taking off for months or years at a time.

Still, he thought, looking up at the cabin:

_If there ever was a place I'd return to, it'd look a lot like this one._

_'Home' can have more than one definition, just like family._

***

"Are we gonna actually go up there?" Sam finally prodded him.

"Yeah yeah," said Dean, knocked out of his reverie. He walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.

All was dark. There was no movement inside and no answer.

"Maybe they haven't opened the place up for the summer yet," said Sam. 

"Place like this? No way," said Dean. "It's so - "

 _Beautiful_ , he wanted to say and absolutely refused.

"I mean, the garden," he said awkwardly.

"Some of these kinds of plants just do their thing naturally," Sam explained. "So it's possible that nobody is here yet."

"Are you angling for a breakin here?" asked Dean. Sam nodded, crossing his arms against a chill wind that had started to blow.

"C'mon, it's not _that_ cold," said Dean.

"What can I say? I've been in California for years. I've gone soft," said Sam.

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

"I don't think they'd mind. The forest is _on fire_ , Dean."

"I assume they'll have brought the copters in," he said, looking at the black sky in the distance. "It doesn't seem to have spread this far."

"Well, let's stay here until it's safe to go back."

Dean sighed.

"You're scared."

"After being half-eaten by a cabin? And now here's this mysteriously convenient cabin on a lake I thought _nobody_ lived on but us, and - "

_it's right out of my English Homes and Gardens dreams -_

he did not say.

"It's just suspicious, all right?"

"Dean, I'm a lawyer," said Sam decisively. "I will take all the responsibility upon myself for this breakin. But I'm cold, and I'm tired, and you haven't slept at all. Plus, you're looking _really_ thin. And I saw you were injured. Just how bad did the cabin get you, anyway?"

Dean knew exactly why he was looking a little thin, and ill, and bruised.

And bitten.

He felt himself go fire-engine red.

_Fucking Scottish heritage!_

Sam was grinning like a madman.

"Oh," he said.

"They might have coffee in there," he said.

"That's it. We're breaking in."


	19. The Book

" _Damn._ "

Dean had now experienced the cabin where he'd spent his childhood and the place Gabriel had kitted out.

But neither of them were anything like this place.

"It's like the house version of the Impala," he breathed.

Sam shot him a look.

"Never mind."

But it was.

This place was right out of his most secret dreams. Of course, someone like Dean could never own a place like this.

But it was the kind of thing he had been planning on doing with the cabin, slowly, over many years. And here it was, laid out in front of him.

The cabin wasn't huge and ostentatious, but it wasn't small and rude like their own cabin had been.

_Evil plant_ , Dean had to correct himself mentally now.

But this little chalet was cozy and warm, while large enough to give people their space if they needed it. The little balcony leading up to the door had some chairs on it, for looking over the channel and lake at sunset, Dean supposed.

He looked out the back window and his jaw dropped.

It was a neat little square with a fancy firepit, more chairs around it, and a few birdfeeders.

The whole place was an idyllic paradise. 

"Backyard is _awesome,_ " he said, walking back into the kitchen. "Place is year-round insulated, too. Lucky bastards."

"Oh wow," said Sam, who was digging in the pantry (the place had a fucking _pantry_ what the hell?) 

Dean remembered a time when he had visited a historic lighthouse where they cooked on the old woodstove. There had been pies cooling in the pantry, the window open to the cool summer air.

"And an AGA!" Sam exclaimed.

"What the hell's an AGA?" Dean asked.

"Fancy woodstove. You see them in some people's houses."

"Some people you'd know, maybe. Is there anything in there that might work as breakfast?"

"Pancake mix and coffee. Here you go."

Sam set out the food. Dean also found butter and syrup in the fridge.

"Are we _sure_ that nobody's been here?" he asked. "The grass is mowed. There's butter in here, Sam."

"You're suspicious again because of butter."

"Call me crazy, but things haven't exactly been normal around here!"

"You're right. If anything weird starts to happen, bad visions, whatever, we're gone. But either way, it's safe for the time being, right?"

Dean wanted to argue. He really, really did.

But he was also starving and exhausted.

"I guess so," he said. "I'll get to making breakfast and then I need to sleep."

"Do you want me to stay up and keep watch?"

"No," said Dean. "Even if there is some kind of danger here, we both need our rest and some fuel."

"Good. Because I did not get _nearly_ enough sleep on that beach."

"All right. Let me make us coffee and pancakes, then we can get a little shut-eye."

***

Sam was snoring away in one of the bedrooms while Dean went outside to sit on the balcony with his coffee.

Like it or not, he was going to miss the cabin. There were so many memories there. So many things would have been lost in the fire. Important things.

Sure, they would've just had sentimental value, like the dreamcatcher.

But there were not a lot of constants in Dean's life, and sometimes the little things mattered more to him than they might to others.

He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining himself here, with Castiel. Sharing coffee in the morning. Spending time together, just talking. 

And other things, of course.

It was a nice dream. Dean supposed Castiel would have to go off to Heaven work or whatever it was that he actually did while he wasn't on assignment.

And there was another thing -

what, exactly, had Castiel's 'mission' been?

Just to find him? Why?

And he had never found the answer to what had happened to his parents, despite that being the reason he had come all the way back up here in the first place.

Now Dean was homeless.

For real.

Sighing, he finished his coffee and went back inside.

***

After his third search of the chalet for anything that slightly resembled a telephone, Dean was creaking in his joints. He wasn't all that young anymore, he supposed.

_Besides,_ he thought, _most people have cell phones these days. No sense in paying for a landline you don't use._

Dean had spent a hell of a night and a morning. If he managed to survive all that and then just died of exhaustion, he was sure Castiel would come find him wherever he ended up in the afterlife and give him a stern talking-to.

So he finally gave up, and found the other bedroom.

He slid into the bed and couldn't help the moan that escaped him.

_This is the most comfortable bed I've ever been in,_ he thought. _Money. What a life._

Moments later, he was fast asleep.

***

" _Fuck_ me."

"No thanks."

Dean hobbled out of the bedroom, rubbing his back. Sam was reading a book while eating a bowl of cereal.

"I think I'm gonna die, Sammy," said Dean. "I got bruises on my bruises."

"Condolences."

"Where'd you get milk for that?"

Sam pointed with the spoon.

"Fridge," he said. "Did you know that peacocks are found in various faiths across the world and mythologies?"

"Is that so."

Dean tried rummaging around in the pantry himself, making little noises of protest as he did so.

"You sound pathetic."

"Yeah, well, you try doing more of the physical labor next time."

"Can't. I'm a lawyer. It's against the law."

"Where'd you find a book about peacocks?" asked Dean, suspicion flooding through him again.

"It was on that shelf over there."

Dean approached the bookshelf warily.

"Cas is a peacock," he said.

"What?" asked Sam, looking up.

"Or peacocks are based on him, whatever," said Dean. "Don't you think it's weird? Not just that you found a book on peacocks but that's the one you chose to read?"

"I don't know, Dean," said Sam. "I thought it was fascinating. Pretty pictures, too. Look."

He held up the book, which did indeed have a beautiful photograph of a peacock in flight.

"Huh," said Dean. "Wow. I didn't realize they could fly so well, what with the huge tails."

"Says here that peacocks have managed to thrive despite not seeming particularly fit for survival," he said. "It's called _sexual selection._ "

"What does that mean?" asked Dean, sitting down with his own bowl of cereal.

"Means they've survived this long because they're sexy," said Sam.

Dean snorted.

"Survival of the sexiest," he clarified. "Tell me, Dean. Would _you_ say that Castiel -"

"Don't go there," said Dean wearily. Sam grinned.

"So, what's even more interesting is that the Yazidi believe in the _Melek Taus_ \- the peacock angel. It says he was 'a benevolent angel who has redeemed himself from his fall and has become a demiurge who created the cosmos from the cosmic egg. After he repented, he wept for 7,000 years, his tears filling seven jars, which then quenched the fires of hell.'"

Now Dean was staring at Sam, spoon halfway to his mouth like that kid in Jurassic Park, with the wide eyes and trembling mouth to match.

So Castiel wasn't just an angel, a kid-brother angel to Gabriel, he was actually _famous_?

"I'm dating a celebrity?" he asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yeah," said Sam, turning the book around. "I mean, it's not called _Castiel,_ but angels might have different names for themselves than the ones humans give them, right?"

"He said he was alone," said Dean. "For so long."

"I took a course in mythology in college," said Sam. "There's an angel called Cassiel, the angel of solitude and tears."

"Yeah, that fits," said Dean. "I wonder what's the deal with the name change."

"Well, many of the Abrahamic religions share the same or similar characters," shrugged Sam. "Could have been a mistranslation, who knows? But if Cas says he's the peacock-angel, then yeah. He's definitely this one, unless there are multiple peacock-angels up there flying around."

"I got the impression that each individual angel had a bird designed after them," said Dean. "Maybe because they're winged creatures, I don't know."

Dean peered at the information about the _Melek Taus._

_"Not much is known about the secretive Yazidi religion,"_ said the book. _"But the peacock is prominent in this culture in the form of the Melek Taus, or Peacock Angel. Early Christians believed that the peacock was immortal, because of a folk legend that their bodies did not decay after death, and in some Indian belief systems, the peacock is the last pure creature on earth because they believe it mates via its tears. Nowhere is the peacock more venerated than in the Yazidi religion, where the Melek Taus is believed to be the one to whom mankind was trusted after the Creation of the Earth. They believe the Melek Taus was created out of the very illumination of God."_

Dean's cereal forgotten, he pulled the book closer and kept reading.

_"The Kiteba Cilwe, said to be the writings of the Melek Taus himself, states that he was there at the time of the Garden. He is one of the oldest beings in existence, and indeed one of the oldest angels, only younger than the greatest of the archangels themselves. In some faiths, it is Gabriel who is called 'the peacock of paradise'. But this is erroneous, as Gabriel is a separate entity altogether."_

"I'll say," snorted Dean.

"Gabriel is something of a celebrity too, I hear," said Sam, but Dean was now far too absorbed in the reading to pay his brother much attention.

"If this is true, the timelines are all screwy," said Dean. "But this book basically says that this guy refused to do as he was told and he got rewarded for it by God."

"God does love a rebel," said Sam. "Look at Jesus."

"Yeah, but. Lucifer?"

"Don't ask me, man. Religion is a complicated thing."

"You're telling me."

The book went on from there, but there was no more information about the Melek Taus. Just discussion about keeping peacocks and other things of interest to birders. Dean eventually lost interest, but he was buzzing under his skin.

"I just don't trust this place," he said. "This is way too many coincidences."

"Yeah, I'm starting to think -"

There was a low, long rumble.

Sam and Dean exchanged a glance over the breakfast bar.

"What was that?"

"Dunno. Sounds like thunder."

They walked outside to the balcony.

Far down the lake, they could see a massive cloud headed in their direction.

"Holy _shit_ ," said Sam. Dean just stared.

He'd never seen anything like it in his life. It was like an enormous stack, or an alien spaceship. If he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes, he wouldn't have believed it.

"Cas mentioned something about a storm."

"Dean, that's not just a storm, that's a _derecho,_ " said Sam. "I think we need to get back inside. Now."

"What's a _derecho_?" asked Dean.

"You're the survivalist and you don't know?"

"I'm not _actually_ a survivalist, you know -"

"Inside. Now. I'll explain."

"Okay, okay, pushy."

Softly, it began to rain.


	20. The Green Storm

The wind was really howling now, shaking the little chalet.

But Dean felt warm and safe inside. The beams were strong and steady. The windows were thick glass. They would be protected from the storm.

"A derecho is a series of thunderstorms," Sam shouted above the noise. "Gale-force winds, tornadoes, you name it. They happen in Minnesota from time to time. The last big one was called the Green Storm and it ripped up Lake Superior."

"Then shouldn't we be taking cover somewhere?" asked Dean.

"I don't think there's a basement in this place."

But miracle of miracles, the place held. It wobbled a little, in the wind, but Dean had read somewhere that houses in hurricane areas were once built with circular wooden nails so they could lean back and forth in a storm.

_Eyebrow houses,_ he thought. _Key West. That's where I saw those. Pretty old wooden houses built with those long wooden nails, rolling back and forth in the wind. We sure think we have all the knowledge in the world these days, but sometimes it's the old-school stuff that works best._

Outside, trees were ripping out of the ground by the roots. Thunder cracked and lightning illuminated the room suddenly.

"Cas was scared of thunderstorms," said Dean. "I hope he's okay."

"Have you tried praying again?"

"A hundred times. Nothing."

"Well, maybe my phone will dry out soon."

"Not like we have their number."

"Okay, but we could phone the Willow Store or the diner."

"Yeah. You notice that the Willow Store's in a new building now?"

"Can't stop progress, I guess."

"Lost a little charm, though."

"Yeah."

The wind screamed around the chalet as the rain battered the windows. Dean had never seen anything like it in his life. It was terrifying.

One look at Sam told him that he was also wearing a stoic mask that was slipping.

"Talk to me," said Dean. 

"I just," said Sam. He hesitated.

"You freaked?" said Dean. "Same here."

"No," said Sam. "I mean, yes, I'm terrified; I know what a derecho can do. But that's not the problem."

"Seems like a pretty big problem to me."

"Yeah, but," said Sam. "Dean. I meant what I said. About Mom and Dad. I think - you must've thought that I hated you or looked down on you or something all these years."

Dean looked at the floor. He nodded.

"You never had anything positive to say," he said.

"Neither did you," said Sam. "It was always _ooh bigshot lawyer_ this and _too bad everyone can't afford what you can_ that. It gets old, Dean, and I know it's because you feel inadequate -"

"Hey!"

"But that's a _you problem_ ," said Sam. "I support you, Dean! I always have. You raised me. Our parents were awful to you and I know that you shielded me from it, as well as any little kid could have. I know you didn't choose it, but I also know that I would not be the person I am today without you."

"You kept giving me presents of money," said Dean. "It was humiliating."

"Did you need it?"

Dean didn't answer.

"That's why I gave it to you," said Sam. "Because you're my big brother, first of all, and because I know you love living on the road and it'd be stupid to give you something you'd just have to throw away or leave behind. I wanted to show my support of your lifestyle and it was the thing I had to give. I don't care about money."

"Easy not to care about something you have."

"There, see? That's what I mean," said Sam. "I didn't end up with a _fancy job_ and money to spite you. I ended up with all of these wonderful things _because_ of you, Dean. Don't you think I know that? Don't you think I thank my lucky stars every single day that you were my big brother?"

Dean stared at Sam.

He didn't know what to say.

"You want to stay here for a while, just me and you?" asked Dean. "Catch up? Hang out?"

Sam grinned.

"I'd like nothing more in the world."

Then, he reached into his back pocket.

"And since you brought it up," he said, "I just wanted you to know that sometimes, I've given you gifts that aren't money. Don't lose it, this time."

In the palm of his hand was the dreamcatcher.

***

The storm died down after that, and the sun came out through the trees. 

"Don't you think it's weird that we haven't heard anything from Cas or Gabriel?" asked Dean, a while later.

"Maybe they're busy."

"Hey, maybe your phone is dry now?"

Sam went to go and check.

"Yeah!" he said. "It's working!"

"Awesome. Call the Willow Store."

Sam did as he was told.

"It's just ringing out," he said.

"Huh. We'll try back later," said Dean. "Not like we're in any danger, right? Like, what are the chances."

"Far as we know," Sam agreed. "Hey, I can take pictures now though!"

He snapped a photo of Dean eating cereal.

"Aw, come on!" he said. "I wasn't even ready."

"You can get me back later," he said. "Here."

The rest of the day was spent taking pictures together.

Dean was deliriously happy. It had been _years_ since he'd had this much fun with Sam.

But no matter how often they tried, the Willow Store just kept ringing out.

***

Dean deemed it safe enough to go out and light a fire in the firepit.

"Funny," said Sam, as he walked outside with a case of beer he'd found in the fridge. "I thought wildfires traveled fast. But I haven't seen a thing and the sky's been clear blue since the derecho passed."

"That storm was nuts," said Dean. "Maybe it put out the fire."

"Maybe."

"Or the wind wasn't blowing in this direction."

"Maybe."

They sat around the fire, drinking beer, and reminiscing about old times.

***

"Did I tell you that I went by the old house in Kansas?" Dean asked.

"No?"

"It was fine. Not a scorch mark on it."

Sam stared at him.

"That's impossible. They must've rebuilt."

"They didn't. Paint was peeling and our initials were still carved in the wall outside, just like always."

Sam set down his beer.

"Does that mean - ?" he asked. 

"I don't know what it means. But that's what I came back here to see if I could figure out. And another thing - if Dad got killed in an accident in the Impala, then why doesn't the car have a scratch on it?"

"I don't know, Dean," said Sam. "I was really young. I figured you understood what was going on, because I sure didn't."

Then he looked up at his brother.

"Although," he said slowly, "now that you mention it, _we've_ just gone through a major storm and a wildfire."

"Yeah," said Dean, picking at the label on his bottle. "I'd noticed that, too."


	21. The Phone

"Sam."

"Yeah."

"That storm."

"What about it?"

"You said a derecho is pretty hardcore, right?"

"Yeah. The one I was talking about on Lake Superior - think it was back in 1999 - killed people, tore up the trees in the Boundary Waters. It was bad."

"Well, don't you think it's weird that it died down so quick?"

Sam looked up from where he was curled up on the sofa, reading a book from the bookshelf.

Dean was staring down at Sam's phone on the breakfast bar.

"I mean," Sam said, thinking about it. "Yeah, I guess it was."

"Right as we were talking about -"

"Leaving."

"That's twice now," said Dean. "Something weird is going on. Also, you notice neither of us has even tried to leave this place? Not via the lake, not via the woods."

Sam sat up.

"You think -"

"I think," said Dean, staring hard at Sam, willing him to get the message. "maybe we should stay here forever."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. Then Dean lifted up a piece of paper.

CAS SAID THEY AREN'T SMART ENOUGH TO WRITE IN A JOURNAL, it said, in Dean's scrawling handwriting. SO MAYBE THEY CAN'T READ. WILL FILL YOU IN ON WHAT I'M THINKING BUT WE NEED TO LEAVE. **SLOWLY.**

Sam nodded, catching on.

"Yeah, Dean," he said. "I love it here. Maybe we should stay."

Dean grinned at him, though it was forced, and he knew Sam would read that in his expression.

"Cool," said Dean. "You want to go blueberry picking? Then we can come back and have dinner at the fire."

"Sure," said Sam. "Then can we make s'mores?"

"Hm," said Dean. "I'm not sure we have the ingredients."

Then he walked over to the cupboard and opened it.

Sitting there were marshmallows, graham crackers, and Hershey bars.

Dean shot Sam a look. Sam nodded slowly.

"Oh!" said Dean. "I guess we do. Then yeah, I think it'd be great to have s'mores."

"Great," said Sam. "Let's get going, then."

The two of them walked out of the cabin as casually as they could.

"It's been years since we've picked blueberries together," said Dean out loud.

"Yeah, I'm really looking forward to it," said Sam, as they got into the canoe and pushed off the dock.

"Me too," said Dean. They kept up this inane chatter until they'd rounded a bend in the channel.

"Okay what the fuck," said Sam.

"Shh!" Dean whispered, looking around. "Okay. I don't see any other cabins but keep your voice down! I don't know what their range is like."

"Okay," Sam agreed.

"Look at your phone. The pictures we took."

Sam sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket.

He started flipping through the pictures.

There they were at the table for breakfast -

eating off empty spoons and out of empty bowls.

Sitting outside at the firepit -

their empty hands circling nonexistent bottles of beer.

"What the fuck," he said again.

"Exactly my thought."

Dean looked around and then leaned over to make sure only Sam could hear them.

"You noticed there haven't been any _people_ out here?" he whispered. "And this is the start of tourist season. Memorial Day weekend comes and goes, and nobody?"

Sam blinked at him.

"Huh," he said. "I guess I was so preoccupied with finding you, I didn't notice. Plus, there was Gabriel, and I thought he was a tourist."

"Something else," said Dean. "In the first cabin, Dad's journal. The lettering changed, the words changed. That peacock book. I didn't look at it again but I wonder if the words changed there, too."

"I thought Cas said they couldn't manipulate books or writing."

"He did," said Dean. "I'm still working on that one. But I _can_ tell you something, and it just occurred to me in there. Carnivorous plants work in a bunch of different ways, right?"

"Yeah," said Sam. "Traps, sticky paper, other stuff."

"Uh huh. And what's the one thing we know about plants, especially ones that are very, _very_ old. You remember how I told you that thing that looked like Dad kept saying _underneath_?"

"Yeah."

"Well, if the plant is thousands of years old," reasoned Dean, "just how deep does its root system go?"

Sam thought about it and then his eyes got huge.

"So you think -" he whispered back, "that the cabins -"

"Are just the flowers," Dean finished. "And there's no telling how big this thing is, or how far down it goes. So we have no idea where it starts, or ends. Treat everything as the enemy."

"I don't know how long we can last if these things keep starving us," said Sam.

"Me neither," said Dean. "But act like nothing's wrong, okay? We can't let on that we know, because there's no telling where this thing starts or ends. We just gotta get beyond it somehow, beyond its reach."

"How will we know?"

"Working on that one, too."

***

They paddled the canoe through the channel until it finally dropped into the next lake.

Neither Sam or Dean spoke.

Because there, on the lake with the pretty blue water, just like the previous lake's bright clear green, there must have been _hundreds_ of cabins, docks, and saunas.

And not a single, living, breathing soul among them.


	22. Flypaper

_Old. So old and so deep beneath the earth it is dreaming._

Dean's eyes snapped open.

They were asleep in the canoe, figuring it was safer.

"Damn daddy longlegs," said Dean, brushing one of the little spiders off his chest. "Always in the bottom of canoes for some reason."

Groaning, Sam sat up in the other end of the boat.

"Man," he said. "I'm too old for this, and now that we're not eating invisible food I'm _starving._ "

"Me, too," said Dean. "We gotta find our way out of here."

"Hang on," said Sam. "You said there was nobody up here, right? But you said there were people at the diner."

"Oh," said Dean. "Right."

Then he looked at Sam, realizing.

" _Oh!_ " he said. "If there were other people -"

"Then that's where it ends."

"See, that's the weird thing," said Dean. "I _swear_ neither of these lakes had cabins on them apart from ours. That's why Dad wanted it. Because he was -"

"On the run," Sam finished. Dean raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Dean, I know I was young, but I _did_ pick up on some things."

"They thought he killed Mom," said Dean. "He wanted to prove who did it. I don't think he ever figured it out. And then the storm - "

"Got him, which may or may not have been true," said Sam. "Or a real storm, at least. We've seen that these things can make you hallucinate."

"Do you think you can call the diner?"

"Let me try."

Sam picked up the phone and then startled excitedly, mouthing _someone picked up!_

Dean snatched the phone away from him.

"Uh, hi," said Dean into the receiver. "Kinda weird question, but I'm looking for a friend. Tan trenchcoat, looks like a stormcloud? We were in there together a little while back. I'm about six feet tall, short blond hair, green eyes, incredibly handsome?"

A long-suffering sigh at the other end made Dean mouth _jackpot!_ at Sam, who grinned.

"Yeah, I remember you," said the woman boredly. "The pig."

"Excuse me?" 

"You eat like a garbage can," she said. "Anyway. No, I haven't seen your friend since that day you were in here."

"Okay, will you do me a favor?" Dean asked. "Write down this number, and if he comes in, will you give it to him?"

"Sure thing, sugar," said the woman, and he could hear her jotting it down.

"Thanks. I'll call again to check," he said.

"Talk to ya later."

Dean clicked off.

Sam spread his arms in a confused, horrified expression.

"Why didn't you have her send out a rescue team?" he asked. "Or, hell. Something!"

"Okay first of all I don't think Doris is gonna be heading up any kind of rescue mission," said Dean. "Secondly, I'm not drawing a ton of _other humans_ right into this trap. If we don't hear from Cas or Gabriel, then we're going to have to face it."

"Face what?"

"If we're gonna get out of this, it's on us."

***

There was a sound like a sonic boom against the vault of heaven.

Dean and Sam looked up into the clear blue sky.

"What was that?" asked Sam.

Dean just shook his head.

***

The sky opened.

Not in the way of rain, or of snow.

But in the way of a Venus flytrap pried open.

Beyond the sky was another sky, heavy with cloud and angry gray.

And there beyond it, blazing with holy light and fury, was the angel Castiel.

All the brothers could do was watch as Castiel floated above them, one knee bent and one hand down toward the water, like in paintings of angels of old.

He roared with effort, and Dean was horrified to see the water move, and the old, dead logs and detritus from the lakebottom erupt from the water -

only now, he recognized it as _a root system,_ heavy and tangled and ancient.

But no matter how he tried, Castiel could not get the roots to snap.

Furious, he changed tactics, and now lifted both arms up with elbows bent, head bowed as if in prayer, his body in the same position with his right foot hooked behind the other calf.

Suddenly, all the water in the lakes, the channels, everything, rushed skyward, up and out beyond the false-sky into the world beyond.

Sam and Dean shouted, the canoe hitting the now-dry root system of the lakebed. Dean's head clunked against the edge of the boat and Sam had to hang on to the gunwale in order to stay inside.

Suddenly, Castiel was there, blue eyes glowing with an unearthly light, an alien emblem of fury.

"Dean," he said, in a voice that sounded barely half human, a sound of breaking static all around it and that same high-pitched whine.

A moment later, Dean was standing in the diner next to Gabriel.

There were scorch marks on the floor beside him. 

The woman at the podium was frozen in terror, staring at them both.

Gabriel took the sucker out of his mouth and grinned.

"Hi!" 

In a few more seconds, Sam was by his side.

" _Table for four, please,_ " Castiel commanded, and the wordless Doris just turned and led them to a booth.

***

"What happened - " Dean began.

"Flypaper," said Castiel, haughty and proud. "The plant caught us by the wings, for quite some time. It was more clever than I gave it credit for."

Dean started to move away but Castiel pressed him close to the window.

"Stay."

"He gets like this," said Gabriel. "He'll cool off in a little bit, but he's a soldier and something stole his mate."

"And I intend to destroy it."

"Whoa, Cas, you can't go all scorched-earth on this thing," said Dean. "There are _people_ here, man. Living, breathing humans."

"Bring him cheeseburgers and pancakes," snapped Castiel at the waitress. "Milkshakes and water. Pumpkin pie."

"But I - " Dean began.

"That is all."

"Uhhhh okay," said the waitress. "What can I get for you guys?"

"Strawberry pancakes sounds good to me," said Gabriel.

"I'll have the Caesar salad," said Sam.

"Seriously? You were almost starved to death and you're ordering salad?"

"I like salad. Anyway you didn't even order for yourself, Cas did."

"Aw, it's okay, Sam," said Gabriel. "I appreciate the effort you've gone into to preserve your figure."

"Thank you?" said Sam, a little uncertainly, still unnerved by the fact Gabriel didn't look him in the eye.

The food was delivered and Castiel watched him eat the entire time.

"Cas," Dean said. "You gotta back off, okay?"

"I will be taking you to the house when we are finished," Castiel announced.

"Yeah, I figured as much," said Gabriel. "Whaddaya say, Sam? You want to do some investigating with me?"

He winked.

"Okay, sure," said Sam. "Are we going to be safe now? We're out of danger?"

"This is the only place we've seen other humans," said Gabriel. "I think we're just at the edge. Despite Castiel's amazing display of power, entirely due to his massive temper tantrum regarding your brother, the thing is only incapacitated. We're going to have to figure out a way to kill it for good. Seems that around here, dead things don't stay buried."

"You can say that again," said Dean.

Castiel was crowding him now, lowering his nose to surreptitiously scent Dean.

"We're going," said Castiel.

"Fine, bossy," said Dean. "But what about -"

"Your car is fine," said Castiel. "It remained on the outer edges with us. It's at the house."

"Then I'm ready to go."

"Best of luck to you guys."

"Best of luck to you, too."

"And Castiel - " Gabriel warned. Castiel nodded.

"I will do my best," he said. "No promises."

With a quick nod, he shepherded Dean out the door.


	23. The House

The door closed behind them.

Castiel opened the fridge and took out food, water, and some coffee.

"Hey, uh," said Dean. "I just ate. So. I'm, uh. Good to go."

Dean didn't want to seem too over-eager, here, but even he thought Castiel was acting a little weird.

The angel nodded. He began to strip out of his clothes.

 _All right!_ thought Dean, wondering when he'd gotten so all-fired up about getting absolutely railed to the point of near-death. 

_Twice._

But then he had always been a little stupid and if the reward outweighed the risk -

"Undress," Castiel directed.

_Awesome._

Dean nearly tripped over himself getting his clothes off, cuffs catching on his wrists and nearly toppling over taking off his boots.

Then Castiel brought out those awesome wings and Dean was reaching for him -

and then the angel handed him a mug of hot coffee, gesturing for Dean to follow.

Confused, Dean trailed Castiel into the bedroom, the mug of coffee in his hands.

Castiel sat down on the bed and Dean went to him, sitting down.

Suddenly the wings came down over him, closing around him and blocking out the light.

"Drink," was all that Castiel said.

In the warm darkness between the wings, Dean did as he was told, watching the sharp features of Castiel's face in the sunlight and shadow.

His face remained impassive. The wings did not move.

Castiel stared the sun down.

***

A few hours later, Dean was getting uncomfortable.

"Hey," he said. "I - I gotta go, Cas."

Castiel looked down at Dean. 

He began stroking his hair, his hands sliding across his back, his front, everywhere, but not in a sexy way. 

More like he was being pet.

" _Cas,_ " Dean insisted. "I have to _go._ "

Castiel nodded, and stood with Dean, who kept trying to move forward toward the bathroom but was having a little trouble because the wings remained firmly closed around him.

They reached the bathroom door this way and then Dean turned around.

"Open up," said Dean. 

Castiel just stared at him.

"Cas!" he said, shoving at his chest. "I'm sweaty and gross in here and I _need_ to use the bathroom! And probably shower. I'm disgusting."

Castiel just shook his head and drew his wings tighter.

"You're not gonna lose me, okay?" said Dean gently. "Please."

Reluctantly, the wings parted. A little. Dean darted out through them before Castiel could change his mind.

***

In the bathroom, Dean felt much better with the air circulating again. Inside the wings, it had become progressively stuffier, until he wasn't sure he was better off under Castiel's protection than he had been in the plant if he ended up suffocated.

Plus, he couldn't deny that he was disappointed that things hadn't taken the turn he had expected, especially after that show of power and fury at the lake. 

He scrubbed himself down in the shower and finally opened the door to find Castiel standing directly in front of it, nose almost pressed to the wood.

"Shit!" Dean yelled. "You scared the hell out of me."

Castiel then tried to draw him back inside the wings and close them again.

"Uh uh!" Dean said. "No way! I'll sit with you but _no wings_. I can't believe I'm saying that. But you're gonna suffocate me."

Castiel's brow darkened and he looked like he was going to disagree.

Dean reached out and pet the wings. Cas's stern expression melted a little, his eyes closing and the little purr started up again. Dean grinned.

"Let's sit," Dean said. Castiel went to the bed.

"I'm sorry, Dean," said Castiel, and his deep voice sounded like the creak of a hinge on an old door. "But - I was alone for _so long_ and I thought I'd lost you - "

"And if you'd kept that up, it would've been just as bad as starving me, but it would have worked a lot faster," Dean said. "And then you'd really be alone."

"Forgive me, beloved," murmured Castiel. "I was afraid."

"Same here," said Dean, and gave his wing another little pet. "Sam and me found a book on peacocks in the last cabin-plant we were in. Did you put that there?"

Castiel gave him a curious look and shook his head.

"Man," said Dean. "The more we learn, the less we know, you know?"

"What did you learn?"

"That you're the Melek Taus, the peacock-angel," said Dean. "Cassiel, the angel of solitude and tears."

Castiel nodded.

"I have been called those things," he said. "But of course none of them got it exactly right."

"What was your sin? It said that you wept 7,000 tears or something."

Castiel smiled.

"I refused to bow to the new creatures, humans," he said. "Based on the previous instructions to bow to none other than God. Lucifer did much the same. But the outcome was very different. Unfortunately, many faiths have used this to confuse my story with his own, but to the Yazidi I am what I have always been: an angel of the Lord. This has led to their persecution and nearly wiped them out, I am very sorry to say."

"What made you change your mind? About humans?"

Castiel gave an elaborate shrug.

"I fell in love," he said, "with humanity, just as we had been instructed. God could have made me submit to "Adam", but he offered me the choice, as a test. I found humans to be clever and kind, endlessly fascinating - once I took the time to understand. So I repented, and Lucifer did not. But a similar test was given to Job, if you are familiar with the stories of the Bible. Sometimes God tests us. And of course, all faiths of the Earth have different stories, some more accurate, some less. To the Christians, for example, I am called _Cassiel_. So no individual group really understands everything, not yet. And I think it must be some kind of karma that I fell in love with a human."

Dean stared at him.

"Fell in love?" he asked, suddenly jealous. "With who?"

Castiel smiled.

"You, of course," he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.


	24. Dangerous

"All right, come here."

"Why?" asked Castiel, a note of suspicion in his voice.

"Because we're going to try something."

"Okay."

Dean could hear that inner-conscience voice of his that said _are you a fucking idiot? do you have a death wish?_

But once he'd got the idea into his head, he couldn't get it out.

"Sit here," said Dean, pointing to a sturdy oak chair shaped like a throne. The thing must've weighed three hundred pounds.

Castiel did as he was told.

Then Dean started wrapping a long rope around him, securing his middle, shoulders, arms and legs. He stood back to admire his work.

"What are you doing?" asked Castiel.

"Well, seein' as you're too nervous to do this yourself now," said Dean, "I figured this would be a safe way."

"What do you mean?"

Dean leaned down and looked into Castiel's eyes.

"I've been waiting to get my hands on you again for _days_ ," he said, "and I've been thinking about you."

He grazed Castiel's ear with his lips.

"I want you inside me, Castiel."

That deep, warning growl vibrated against his skin.

Dean smiled.

"There you are."

Castiel stared up at him with doubtful trust.

"Dean," he said. "If this doesn't - it might not hold - "

Dean grinned even wider.

"Sweetheart," said Dean, "that's kinda what I'm hoping for."

Inside, the thought _sure hope you know what you're doing, riling up an angel that's nearly taken you out a few times now_ did cross his mind.

But Dean was horny, and he was always stupid when he was horny, and this seemed like the best idea he'd ever had.

He kissed down Castiel's chest, where that deep growl was emanating from just below his heart.

He placed a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, which twitched against him, filling out.

Then he walked slowly around Castiel, his hand drifting across the midnight-black wings.

Surprised, he saw there were a few bald patches, and some feathers fell like snowdrifts onto the floor.

"What happened here?" he murmured.

"Had to rip my wings off the - _ah!_ \- the flypaper," said Castiel, sighing as Dean pet down the feathers. "Took some of the feathers off."

"But the heroic rescue was worth it?"

"Always."

Dean bent over to inspect Castiel's wings closely, and noticed that the same oil he had seen in his dreams was making its way down his back.

"What's this?" asked Dean, scooping some of it up in his hand.

"My oil," said Castiel. "It's - when we're aroused, we - "

Dean circled around him again so that Castiel could see he was jacking himself slowly, using the oil.

Castiel's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.

He strained forward.

"You like that, Cas?" whispered Dean.

He saw the angel's muscles working, his hands opening and closing reflexively.

The arms of the chair cracked.

" _Dean_ ," said Castiel, and in that single syllable was a warning, a desperation, and a need that Dean had never heard in the angel's voice before.

The great black wings slammed downward onto the floor.

Dean watched with interest as Castiel's cock smeared precome on his stomach, curved and hard, angry with blood. 

"If you won't take me because you're too scared," Dean said airily, moaning on the downstroke of his own cock, "I can always find another angel who -"

" _No!_ " roared Castiel in fury. " _Mine._ "

But he still remained in the chair, eyes wide, wings down, every muscle straining to keep him there.

Dean was smart enough to keep out of his reach, fucking into his fist now.

"Unh, _fuck,_ Castiel," he said through gritted teeth, "you know what I kept thinking about? How you filled me up so good, you held me down, made me _take_ you, God, _fuck!_ "

He nearly buckled over and had to take his hand off his dick because he almost shot off right there.

"You want me to come on you, Cas?" he breathed. "Mark you up?"

The look Castiel gave him was like murder.

"Oh, no," said Dean softly. "You want me to _submit,_ right? Because I'm your mate? Because you're the dominant one here? You want to shove my face down and mount me and fuck me, right?"

That growl of Castiel's was starting to sound like a thunderstorm. He seemed to have lost the power of speech.

There was another _crack_ as he restrained himself and there was suddenly a hairline fracture in the chair.

 _That's it,_ thought Dean. _Just a little more._

He walked around behind Castiel again to find the back of the chair was _soaked_ in his oil. His wings were vibrating, just like Dean had seen peacocks do when displaying their tails in nature documentaries.

Then, making sure that he was in Castiel's direct line of sight, Dean crouched down on all fours.

There was a moment of dead silence in which his brain helpfully supplied _you know, maybe this wasn't the best idea, it might actually be dangerous_ as Dean suddenly registered the fact that all hell was about to break loose -

Castiel made an ungodly noise behind him, something between that strange high-pitched electric whine and a bellow, and the chair _shattered_ beneath him. Dean only knew this because he saw the splintered remains of it go past his face and hit the wall in front of him -

an instant later, he was beneath a very slippery angel making all kinds of strange, desperate noises, slipping his fingers deep inside Dean and making him shout. He tried to move a little but Castiel was not having it, and suddenly picked him up and shoved his body so hard into the wall that the wall cracked like the chair had and the air went right out of Dean's lungs. Castiel held him in place as he maneuvered him over his cock, sliding inside him with a smooth, decisive motion.

The snarls and growls echoing in his ear as Castiel took him against the wall, holding him up with just his arm bent at the elbow, leaning against his shoulderblades, made Dean's cock harder than he had ever remembered in his entire lifetime.

" _Mate. Mine,_ " snarled Castiel as he slammed into Dean again and again, in a jiggling rhythm that made Dean cry out with the onslaught. " _Fuck. Breed._ "

 _Breed?_ thought Dean, alarmed, and was startled as he came all over the wall in front of him as Castiel laughed darkly in his ear.

" _You like that, Dean?_ " growled Castiel, and Dean could feel the smile on the bastard's face as he mimicked Dean's teasing words. 

Dean blushed. There were some things he had no words for, and this was one of them. Deep, embarrassing secrets he'd never tell a soul.

" _Don't worry, little mate,_ " whispered Castiel. " _I think you are beautiful, and I would love to - ah! fuck!_ _ **fuck!** "_

Castiel gasped in his ear and shoved him harder into the wall as he held Dean still and let him feel his orgasm pumping deep inside him.

And, of course, Castiel just kept going, Dean gasping for air against the wall.

***

Some time later, Castiel had moved them down to the floor, incessantly fucking into him, holding him up by the hips. Dean had since given up speaking, covered in sweat and come.

Suddenly, the angel pulled out of him and flipped him over. Dean gave him a dazed look, staring up at Castiel while on his knees.

Castiel tapped his lips with his cock, and Dean obediently opened for him. Castiel slowly fed his cock into Dean's mouth until it hit the back of his throat, making the angel moan.

Suddenly, Dean's mouth was filled with hot liquid, and his own cock hurt with how badly it turned him on. He kept his eyes on Castiel's and swallowed everything down.

Then Castiel rolled him over again and pushed inside him. He reached down and put his hand around Dean's cock, pulling a couple of times, and Dean helplessly came on himself, on the floor, onto Castiel's hand. Then the hand was in front of him, encouraging; Dean licked it off.

All the while, Castiel kept at it, holding him in place, wings shaking as he came over and over again, inside Dean, on top of him, in his mouth, on his skin, all over his face.

Nothing seemed to sate him, and Dean could do nothing but let himself be used.

***

" _That's it, little mate,_ " Castiel was saying as Dean regained consciousness again. " _Yes. Come on._ "

He shouted and arched with the orgasm that hit him like a freight train under Castiel's ministrations. He made a sad, pathetic little sound and leaned his head against Castiel's leg.

" _You belong to me, do you not?_ " Castiel said, but it was mostly to himself. " _I love it, your cock is covered in my scent._ "

He came on Dean again, huge white spurts onto his chest. Castiel seemed obsessed with rubbing it into Dean's skin.

Sleeping, waking, it was all the same now. Castiel was in another world entirely.

Then, Dean was shocked when Castiel rolled him onto his back and sank down onto _his_ cock, wings stretched to the ceiling.

" _Ah! Ahhh!_ " Dean screamed, tears leaking from his eyes. He couldn't tell if he was weeping from pain or extreme ecstasy, his body was beyond its limits and now Castiel was taking what he wanted in a completely different way and Dean's mind could barely handle it. His mouth dropped open and he stared up at those wings as Castiel fucked himself down on Dean's cock.

Then, impossibly, Dean felt like - there was no _way_ this was still possible -

" _Castiel!_ " he screamed, begging, a prayer, anything, as he bucked up into the angel and shot off deep inside him.

" _Dean,_ " moaned Castiel and came _again,_ uncontrollably, onto Dean's stomach and face and the floor beneath him.

***

This time, when Dean woke, he knew it was nighttime. He didn't know how many days had passed. Hunger, thirst, relief, anything human was missing - he supposed Castiel must have done something with magic or whatever, he wasn't sure what, but _something_ -

and the angel was covering him still, his cock a hard breach of Dean's ass, still moving inside him as if almost independent of Castiel himself.

"Cas," Dean tried, but he had no voice left.

Instead of a response, Castiel pressed his hand down _hard_ on Dean's back, and came inside him again with a groan.

***

The strangest thing, in all of this, was that no matter how long it went on or how many times he had come, Dean found that his desire just _built_ instead of waning. Now he was near-animal himself, panting and begging to be fucked, to be filled, and yes, to be _bred_. The embarrassment had fallen away, and he was shameless in his want, demanding his most private, base desires.

Castiel just smiled indulgently, and obliged him.

***

Dean loved it.

He loved being held in place and fucked.

He _craved_ it now, this strange domination.

The world had narrowed just to this:

he, and Castiel.

***

"Kid. You have _got_ to be one of the dumbest humans alive."

Dean registered a new voice, _not the right voice! not **his** voice._

"Dean?"

_There. Mate. Obey. Breed._

"Castiel, what did I _tell_ you -"

"He goaded me!"

There was a sigh as Dean blinked awake.

He saw Gabriel's face first and turned his head away.

"Come on, it's all right, I'm not trying to take his place," coaxed Gabriel. "But I'm not going to ruin the rapport I've built with Sam by delivering him a dead brother."

Dean sent Gabriel a questioning look.

"Yeah, kiddo," he said. " _Hair's breadth away,_ this time. My brother can't control himself, it seems."

Dean slowly became aware that he could not move a muscle.

"Yeah," said Gabriel. "This time, it's going to take time. That took a lot out of me. Castiel, if you can't control yourself, you need to stay away from him until you can."

"But - "

" _No buts!_ " said Gabriel. "Yes, I understand that he was provoking you, but have some self-control, man!"

Then he leaned down and spoke to Dean.

"But that was just... _insanely_ stupid," he said. "I can't be here every single time this happens! Work it out, you two. Or else."

Gabriel vanished, and Dean vaguely heard his voice explaining to Sam downstairs that _Dean was a little under the weather._

Castiel sat down beside him.

"Is there," he said, hesitant. "Can I do anything?"

"Help me up," said Dean. "'M gross, an' it's embarrassing enough with Gabriel seeing it, but I wanna shower."

"Okay," said Castiel, and they were in the bathroom.

Castiel helped wash him, and Dean found it faintly surprising that his hands were so gentle and caring after everything else that had happened. But if he had thought that he'd been bruised the first time, this was another level.

Nearly every inch of his skin was reddened, bitten, scratched, turning a purplish black and blue. 

"Tell me that you avoided my face, at least," said Dean, and Castiel nodded, mortified.

He got dressed, with much difficulty and a lot of wincing. Castiel just kept giving him a guilty look.

"Hey," said Dean, cuffing him around the neck and drawing him down for a quick kiss. "Just so you know, _I loved it,_ and I am up for anything whenever you are."

There was that low growl again.

"Only," said Dean, "maybe we should try to moderate. A little bit. If you want to keep this up, I gotta be in good condition."

"I never want to hurt you, Dean," said Castiel earnestly. "But I can't control myself around you."

"We can work on that," said Dean. "Not every day you fall in love with an angel, after all."

Dean winked at Castiel's shocked look and turned to the door.

"Let's go downstairs," he said to the angel frozen behind him. "Our brothers are waiting."

***

Downstairs, Sam and Gabriel were looking pretty chummy as they laughed together and shared coffee.

"Look who's joined the land of the living," said Gabriel, and then mouthed _because of me!_ at Dean, who rolled his eyes in return.

"Yeah, yeah," said Dean, waving his hand. "You guys find something?"

"As a matter of fact, we did," said Gabriel. "That's why we decided to stop by. I didn't get a call, this time, although I really _should have_ \- "

here he glared daggers at Castiel, who studied something on the ceiling.

"Gabriel," said Dean, cutting off the incoming reprimand at the pass, "I got a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Cas said all angels have a bird based on them."

"That's true."

"What's yours? We found a book that said you were called the 'peacock of paradise', is that true? Are you and Cas both the same kind of bird?"

Gabriel gave him a puzzled look, like he was trying to figure Dean out.

"No," he said. "But I can see where the misunderstanding happened. Birds-of-paradise are based on me, greater-superb-birds-of-paradise in particular. Why?"

Dean stared at him.

Then he threw back his head and laughed and laughed.


	25. Sweet

"So what'd you find out?"

Gabriel leaned back in his chair and gestured to Sam.

"Well, we were wondering," he said, "why, with a plant of that age, almost as ancient as we are, did it stop growing where it did?"

"Search me," said Dean, filling up his coffee mug and wincing with every step.

"Dean, are you okay?" asked Sam.

"Fine. It's nothing," said Dean, having a very hard time bringing the mug to his mouth.

Castiel brushed his shoulder, and he felt those warm tingles down his spine.

"Thanks, Cas," said Dean, finally drinking the coffee.

Sam made a horrible face.

"Gross," he said. "Anyway. Didn't you say something about how the plants didn't like 'sweet' emotions, like love?"

"Yes," said Castiel, nodding.

"Well, what's the one thing we know about the Willow Store?"

Dean stared at his brother.

"Ice cream?"

"Right!" said Sam. "So, here's a place where they're not just feeding people ice cream, they're _known_ for it, and each ice cream cone is gigantic."

"So not only is the store full of the stuff," said Dean, "but the people are, too. Son of a _bitch,_ Sam. That's some good thinking."

"And," said Gabriel triumphantly, "you know how much I _love_ sweet things."

He made eyes at Sam, but Sam wasn't looking in his direction.

"So here's the thing," said Gabriel. "We think this thing is not so much a plant, as a _weed._ And you know what kills weeds? _Safely?_ Mostly without touching the other plants?"

"I have a feeling you're about to tell us," said Dean.

"Sugar," sang Gabriel, "ah, honey honey - "

"Without the singing please," Castiel ground out.

"Aw, c'mon," said Gabriel. "I have a lovely voice. People have written about it for centuries."

"Yes, I'm sure they were thinking of pop music and not the heavenly host," said Castiel drily.

"Fine," pouted Gabriel. "Anyway. Yeah. You and me, Castiel. Strength and sweetness. Somebody's gotta pull up the weeds once they're dead."

" _That's_ why God sent you here?" asked Castiel. "Because you're addicted to _sugar_?"

"You wanna tell me why God sent _you_ here?" asked Gabriel. 

Castiel stared at the ground, stubborn and silent.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," said Gabriel.

"What does he -" Dean began, but Gabriel interrupted.

"You know what they say," said Gabriel, putting a sucker in his mouth and his hands behind his head. "God works in mysterious ways."

***

"Something else," said Sam. "I was wondering how it was able to spread so far. I think it's a little like wild ginger in that it's got a deep, complex root system and is technically an invasive species."

"Yeah?" said Dean. "What'd you come up with?"

"Dad's journal was in the first cabin," said Sam, "and you'd _really_ wanted to know what happened to him, what happened to Mom. Did you read any other books?"

"Yeah I did," said Dean. " _Jaws._ Gave me one hell of a hallucination. If that was what it was."

"Right," said Sam. "And the books on the shelf were all the kinds of books people would enjoy reading? The kind they might, you know, _take with them outside?_ "

"What?" said Dean. "You're saying _the books_ are the seeds of this thing?"

Sam nodded.

"I think so," he said. "First it's Dad's journal. Then the peacock book, which I think we know why you - "

"Okay, okay, moving on," said Dean. He wanted to blame his impending blush on his Scottish heritage again, but the mention of his dad's journal reminded him what he had found in it.

_Not even a Winchester, definitely not a Campbell._

He sighed.

"Tell me you didn't take the journal with you," said Sam. "Or the peacock book. Or _Jaws._ "

Dean shook his head.

"Wasn't time," he said. "I didn't even think of it."

Sam blew out a breath in relief.

"Good," he said. "That's good."

"So these things were a _lot_ smarter than Cas thought, huh?" asked Dean.

"I'm not so sure," said Sam. "If mental manipulation was easy for them, and hallucinations, they -"

Sam stopped abruptly. 

Gabriel was sitting forward now, chin in his hands, fluttering his lashes at Sam.

"They're so _clever,_ aren't they, Castiel?" asked Gabriel.

"Yes, very impressive," said Castiel. "Now how do we kill it."

Gabriel _tch_ ed.

"Typical soldier," he sighed. "No time for intellectual stimulation, just straight to the violence."

He patted Sam on the arm, and his eyes widened. He squeezed Sam's arm.

"Wow," he said. "I mean it when I say this: _wow._ "

"Uh, thanks," said Sam.

"Don't you listen to Castiel," said Gabriel. " _I_ appreciate a man of letters."

Sam just looked confused and a little distraught.

"Cas is right," said Dean. "We need to kill this thing before it gets anybody else."

"It looks like it is a two-part thing," said Sam. "First, the whole place needs to be covered in sugar. Then the root system broken up to keep it from coming back again."

"So, teamwork," said Gabriel. "Brothers working together. I don't know about you, but I'm sensing a theme here."

"Yeah," said Dean. "And what do me and Sam do."

Gabriel rolled up his sleeves and dropped a wink at Sam.

"You watch us work."

Then he looked at Castiel.

"Whaddaya say, baby bro?" he asked. "Sure beats turning cities to salt. Dontcha think?"

***

"So people would take the books out of the cabins, or lend them to other people who of course never returned them, or just forgot them in random places," Sam was explaining. "And out of those books, more grew. They all connected together at the bottom, kind of like how banyan trees grow downward."

"I feel like I could be a plant doctor after this," said Dean.

" _Botanist,_ Dean."

"Whatever."

They were sitting in Baby where Castiel had deemed the very edge of the outer plant sat innocently mimicking a beautiful lake.

"Man," said Dean. "You'd really never know, wouldja."

"No," said Sam. "It's pretty amazing, when you think about it. Adaptation, the way it's been able to survive under the radar for so long."

"Kind of like me," joked Dean gently. "Hey, Sam."

"Yeah?"

"I've been thinking about what you said," Dean told him. "Before, about how you accepted me and my lifestyle, but I didn't accept you and yours. And you know what, I think you're right. I was so wrapped up in feeling totally inadequate and...jealous, I guess. I don't know. It was easier."

Sam was silent, but acknowledged Dean's words with a brief incline of his head.

"And I just wanted to say, I'm sorry, Sam," Dean said. "I've been a jerk. And you deserved better than that. I guess I felt like I didn't belong in your life anymore, not once you got successful. Who needs a loser drifter brother?"

Sam looked at him, and Dean was startled to see tears in his eyes.

"I do," he said. "Dean, I do. I've missed you so much. And I know we were just in a man-eating mimic plant...cabin, or whatever, but that was the best time I'd had in _years._ "

Dean smiled.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeah, me too."

They looked at each other for a moment.

"I have a girlfriend called Jess," Sam blurted out. "I'm gonna ask her to marry me, Dean. When I get back to California."

Dean's eyebrows shot up.

"Hell!" he said. "Gabriel is going to be mighty disappointed."

Sam gave a soft laugh.

"Yeah, maybe," he said. "But he strikes me as, uh. Resilient."

Dean looked out the windshield and grinned.

"Sam," he said. "What do you think about a road trip? Once all this is over."

"Really?"

"Well, yeah. I wanna be there to celebrate the engagement."

"She might turn me down."

"Then I wanna be there to help you drown your sorrows. Either way. I wanna be there."

Sam grinned at his brother.

"That would be awesome."

***

"Hey!" boomed Gabriel's voice from far above them. "Aren't you watching?"

"How is he doing that with his voice?" asked Sam, and Dean shrugged.

They both got out of the car.

In the sky, Gabriel unfolded his wings.

There were six of them, and they were golden.

In his hand, he held a long staff, which he thrust toward the earth.

Sugar filled the now-empty lakebed, covering the root system in its entirety.

"Wow," said Sam. 

Dean just nodded.

There were enormous cracking sounds, like low booms. The root system started drying out and splitting amid the sugar drowning it.

Then, to Sam and Dean's surprise, an enormous shriveled leaf suddenly appeared, with barbed teeth. The forest beyond it looked identical, but otherwise, it was clear that what they'd seen before was an illusion.

Castiel joined his brother in the sky, his gigantic black wings like windows to midnight against the blue. With great effort, he pushed his hand down again, his body in the same formation it had been when he had come to rescue Sam and Dean.

Moments later, a long root erupted from the ground, snaking back onto itself over and over, until the deepest parts of it were pulled up from the earth. 

"It is done," said Castiel.

Gabriel filled the holes where the roots had been with sugar. Castiel pressed down with his hands again, and the dry creaking and shattering of the root system echoed throughout the forest.

Triumphant and ethereal, despite their modern clothes, the two angels were suspended in the sky like a Renaissance painting. They smiled at each other.

The plant was dead.


	26. The Mission

"All right, I don't know about the rest of you," announced Gabriel, "but a victory like this one calls for a celebration!"

"What did you have in mind?" asked Sam.

Gabriel waggled his eyebrows.

"Let's go dancing!" he said. "I know of this _great_ place that does tango on Thursdays - "

"Sounds like fun," said Sam. "You guys wanna join us?"

"No thanks," said Dean, grinning. "I want to thank Cas in a different way."

"Whoa! Hey!" said Gabriel, putting himself between the two of them and pushing them apart. 

Then he lowered his voice to a near-whisper.

"I am taking Sam on a _date_ ," he said. "I do _not_ want to be called back here because _somebody_ can't get it under control!"

"You won't have to this time, Gabe," said Dean. "Don't worry."

Castiel nodded hurriedly.

"Promise," he said.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at his brother.

"Okay, I am _trusting_ you on this one," he said. "Remember? That's what we're supposed to be learning here? _Trust your brother, work together,_ something like that?"

"Yes, Gabriel."

"Do _not_ call me. I won't answer. I'm hanging up angel radio right now. Got it?"

"Got it."

Dean pulled Sam aside then.

"You better tell him."

"I'll tell him."

"Nobody likes a tease, Samuel," Dean said. "Especially angels."

"I'll tell him!"

Suddenly, Gabriel was by his side.

"Tell me, Sam," he said. "Have you ever been to Argentina?"

Sam's jaw dropped.

"No?"

"Whoa, Argentina?" Dean said. "I thought you were going somewhere around here!"

Gabriel gave him a look.

"Around here? Pfft," he said. "No, we're going to a nice little cantina I know in the birthplace of tango. Because _I_ know how to show someone a good time."

He glared at Castiel again.

"Have fun," he said. " _Moderately._ "

He grabbed Sam's hand.

"C'mon, Sam," Gabriel said. "There's a dance I want to show you."

Dean caught Sam's expression between uncertainty and excitement, the nerd. 

Then they both vanished.

Dean turned to Castiel.

He approached him, slow and deliberate. 

Castiel's eyes were huge, his lips parted in anticipation.

"You know," said Dean, running his tongue over his own lips, "seeing you show off your strength like that...was _fucking hot_."

Dean kissed Castiel, despite the angel's look of terror, and when he heard that low growl start up in Castiel's chest, he smiled against his lips.

***

Dean could see Castiel's toes pushing against the floorboards as he shoved harder, trying to get even deeper inside. The angel was making desperate little sounds, almost like he was in pain.

"Shh," said Dean. "Shh, I'm here, it's okay."

"Dean," said Castiel, pleading for something, he didn't know what. "Dean."

It seemed to be the only word he knew.

Dean finally managed to shift and roll onto his back, so he was looking up into the angel's face.

He reached out and placed his palm against Castiel's cheek.

He had an idea.

_Now or never, Winchester._

"I love you, Castiel," he said, in a loud, clear voice.

There was something in the air between them, gold and shining. Dean could see it.

Castiel gasped. Then he froze.

He threw his head back, his wings outstretched.

"I - "

Suddenly Castiel was moving again, still arched back, mouth open on a silent scream.

Dean could see the electric blue of his eyes.

"I - _love you, Dean!_ " he cried, and suddenly a shockwave of blue light emanated from Castiel. Dean could feel the wind of it against his skin, ruffling his hair.

Castiel's hands tightened against his shoulders, and Dean felt him come, wave after wave of it. Dean noticed that he had come at the same time, his stomach sticky with it, but the sensation of whatever the shockwave had been was so intense that he had missed it.

Castiel collapsed on top of him, black feathers fluffy and ruffled.

Moments later, the angel was asleep, smacking his lips and making little grunting snores against Dean's shoulder.

"Uh...okay," said Dean.

Then he put his arms around the angel, and just held him.

***

A while later, Castiel opened a sleepy eye. He had since rolled off of Dean, but gathered him to his side using one great, black wing. Dean was idly watching the sun play across the angel's feathers, which were still fluffed up.

"Do you want to know what my mission was?" he mumbled.

Dean looked at him.

"If you want to tell me," he said. "You don't have to."

"I think I can now," he said. "But it was top secret. Before."

"What was your mission?"

Castiel sighed, and used his wing to pull Dean even closer.

"For humanity to love me in return."

Dean stared at him for a moment, and then hid a smile behind his fluffed-out feathers.

"Mission accomplished."

Castiel closed his eyes again, bunching up his wings in the sunlight, surrounding Dean in a warm embrace. He smiled, lazy and soft.

"Indeed."


	27. The Future

"Not that I'm complaining here," said Dean, unsure how to broach the topic, "but you've, we've, how many times now? And this time, just the once and you're out like a light?"

Castiel blushed. His feathers ruffled up even more, which was impressive since they were already very fluffy.

"It seems that I don't reach completion without - ah," he said, a little nervous.

"Without being told you're loved?"

"I am an angel, Dean."

Dean nodded.

"Okay," he said. "I see what you mean. Good information to know. It'll keep Gabriel off my case, at least."

"I didn't want to hurt you."

"I know," said Dean. "I kept provoking you because I _like_ the epic, marathon, animalistic angel sex, okay? But I'm glad to know you have a release valve. Especially because a guy starts to wonder what he's doing wrong. Now that I know what does it for you, I'll be sure to use it to my advantage."

He climbed into Castiel's lap and pet the undersides of his wings.

Like clockwork, there was that low growl again.

"I heard that this is an erogenous zone for birds," said Dean. "Looks like they're based on you in more than just one way."

Castiel just stared up at Dean, breathless.

"So," Dean said softly, threading his fingers through Castiel's feathers. "You were saying that me telling you I'm in love with you is what gets you going?"

Castiel didn't respond, just kept staring at Dean like he'd never seen anything like him before.

But the growl kicked up a notch.

He suddenly tightened his fingers and raked his hands through Castiel's feathers.

Castiel _howled._

Dean smiled. 

He liked to make his angel sing.

***

"Okay! We're back! Everybody decent!"

Dean, standing in the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hand, just sipped at it while he watched Gabriel flail around with one arm over his eyes and the other on Sam's shoulder. 

Sam's eyes were also screwed tightly shut.

"Never," said Dean. Sam opened his eyes and grinned.

"Hey," he said.

"Oh, thank goodness," said Gabriel, after dropping his arm. "And you don't even look mauled! Congratulations to my little brother, he's finally learning."

"So how was it?" Dean asked Sam.

"Oh it was _awesome_ ," Sam said excitedly. "There were all these dancers, and it was _amazing -_ "

"And you _told Gabriel,_ right?" asked Dean. Sam nodded.

"Oh, yeah," said Gabriel. "Broke my heart, you know. But there's always more fish in the sea."

Then he leaned over and said in a stage whisper:

"He still let me dance with him. And that is a gift I will always cherish."

"Shut up," said Sam, blushing. But he was smiling.

"Gabriel."

Castiel walked out onto the landing of the stairs from the bedroom, where he had just emerged from the shower, hair wet but fully dressed.

"Hiya, kid brother!" called Gabriel cheerfully. "Glad to see you've figured things out."

Castiel favored him with a rare smile.

***

Later, Sam and Dean were sitting in the kitchen together. Castiel and Gabriel had gone to ensure the plant was dead, and stop any new roots from growing.

"So what are we going to do now?" asked Sam, looking up from the magazine he was paging through. 

"I don't know," said Dean. "Dad left me the cabin. Now it's gone. Guess I'll go back on the road."

"No," Sam said. "No, Dean. Come out to California with me. I have space."

"I'd just be in your hair. And there's a lot of it."

"Okay," said Sam. He took a deep breath. "I kinda figured you were gonna say that, so I have another idea."

Dean was instantly on his guard.

"Relax," Sam said. "I just - okay. I was feeling really bad about you losing the cabin, since Dad left it to you and all. So I was going to tell you, I bought a plot of land, a while back. It's near where I live, in a little forest -"

"Not sure I ever wanna see another forest again," said Dean.

"I know what you mean," said Sam. "But hear me out, okay? It's not much, just a few acres, and it still needs to be cleared. It's within the city limits, not way the hell out in the middle of nowhere like this, so you'd be able to interact with other people and get work, go back to school, whatever you want to do. Plus, I know how much you love working with your hands, and I already have building permits -"

"Sam, _no_ ," said Dean. "No handouts. You know I hate that."

"Not a handout," said Sam. "I want you to help me fix up the house, and I'm giving you the land in exchange. I'd have just given it to you, but I know how you feel about that, and just - let me do this for you, okay?"

"I don't like pity."

Sam sighed.

"It's not _pity_ , it's _family_ ," said Sam. "Besides, I really do need work done on the house and you're good at it. Do you have any idea how many people would jump at a chance to own, well, anything right now?"

"Yeah, well, I'm not people," said Dean. Sam gave him a weird look. "You know what I mean.

"Look, Dean. I want to have a nice place for me and Jess to live, because I plan on having a family, okay? Yard for the kids, that kind of thing. And my place is pretty run-down right now."

"No?" said Dean. "Thought you could afford a nice place."

"Have you _seen_ the cost of housing in California? That _is_ a nice place. Anyway, the offer is there if you want to take it. And you could, you know, build your own place, on your own land. For you and Castiel."

Dean laughed.

"Cas is," he started. "I mean. Cas is an angel. He probably has three personal swimming pools up there and a mansion."

"Dean," said Sam. "Even if he owns half of heaven I think he'd rather live down here with you."

Dean blinked at his brother.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

"How do you figure?"

"I'm your brother," said Sam. "So I know."

"That makes no sense, but okay," said Dean. "I'll think about it."

"We can iron out the details on the way to California," said Sam. "But I already made the phone call. The land is in your name. It'll always be there, waiting for you. Whether or not you want to work on my house."

Dean didn't know what to say.

There was a brief storm of anger, of humiliated pride, of a lot of things.

But Dean was getting older.

And the days on the road were getting longer.

Maybe this would be his chance to have a home, and also travel.

Just like Castiel.

_And maybe,_ something new inside him whispered, _something to **offer** Castiel._

_Birds like nests, right?_

"Thank you, Sammy," he finally settled on. Sam gave him a brief nod.

"Of course, Dean," he said. "What's family for?"

The front door opened, and Gabriel walked inside.

He didn't have his usual cheery demeanor. 

Castiel followed behind him, looking similar, his mouth drawn into a frown.

"Hey," said Dean. "What's with the stormcloud?"

The two angels looked at each other.

Dean and Sam sobered, sensing something new was in the wind.

"Dean," said Castiel, "We know what happened to your parents."


	28. The News

Dean didn't respond. He just waved a hand toward Castiel as if to say _continue._

"We wanted to check out the old Willow Store," Gabriel put in, "just in case the plant had grown further than we'd thought. Hidden roots and all that."

"And?" asked Sam.

"Fortunately, the old store was protected the same as the new one is," said Gabriel. "Happy memories, sugar, that kind of thing. So it was just a store they had to move out of because they'd outgrown the original. Totally normal stuff."

"Except that we found this," said Castiel, "underneath the counter."

He tossed a book onto the kitchen island.

It was their dad's journal.

"Whoa!" said Dean, backing away from it and hitting the wall. "Wasn't that in the old cabin? Aren't these books _seeds,_ Cas? Get it the hell out of here! Burn it! Whatever!"

Castiel shook his head.

"No, Dean," he said gently. "The cabin showed you what you wanted to see, and that was your father's journal. He'd apparently left it with Isaac for safekeeping, but as you know, the man has been unwell."

"And it's not as if we told him who we were," Sam said. "We were kids last time we were here."

Gabriel nodded.

"So we had a look in there," he said. "And - well, we thought you should read it for yourselves."

Dean approached the journal like it might explode.

"It's just a book, Dean," said Castiel. "We made sure of that."

Cautiously, he reached out and opened to the first page.

Sam approached him, and read along with him, over his shoulder.

***

_Dean -_

_Son, if you're reading this, that means I'm gone._

_I'm leaving this book at the Willow Store with Isaac in the hopes that you'll pick it up on the way into town. I know you always loved the ice cream there, and since I've left you the cabin in my will, I assume you'll make your way out here sooner or later. The world has grown harder in my time, don't let anyone tell you otherwise._

_This is going to be difficult for you to read, so please take some time to prepare, if you need it._

_First things first. You're adopted, Dean. I know this will come as a blow to you. I think we made some choices that were not very smart over the years, and one of those was never telling you boys the truth._

"Adopted?" whispered Sam. Dean nodded, tears in his eyes.

"I'd read that in the cabin journal," he said. "Guess they must've talked about it in the cabin or something."

"Sometimes the truth can be more painful than lies," Gabriel said. "Some creatures will leverage whatever works."

Dean wiped his eyes and returned to reading.

_But I never want you to think we didn't love both you and Sam the same. You're still a Winchester, and a Campbell, Dean. We didn't think we could conceive, so we adopted you; a few years later, little Sammy came along._

_The second thing I wanted to say is that I know we were terrible parents. This isn't an excuse or a request for forgiveness. I just wanted to acknowledge it._

Dean blinked at that, but kept going.

_Thirdly, you'll be told that I died in a car accident. It won't be the truth._

_Just like it wasn't true that your mother died in a house fire._

_I spent so much time lying to you boys with an eye to your protection. But I see now that might not have been the wisest choice. I'm human, and I have made mistakes. Too many to count._

_But the thing that killed your mother wasn't human. And I will most likely not die by normal human means._

_Your mother was killed by a demon, with demonic fire._

_I've been hunting that demon ever since, and if he takes me out too, then this is the only chance I'll have to communicate with you._

_I know you'll think this is crazy. But part of the reason I left you the cabin in the will is that strange things happen there. I don't know why. But you're resourceful and quick on your feet, and maybe the things that happen there will convince you this isn't a joke or your old man gone senile early._

_Fourth - there will come a time when angels walk the earth again. They are formidable creatures, but we know this will happen one day. Whether or not it's within your lifetimes, I can't say. I just know it to be true._

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked at Gabriel.

"Formidable, huh," he said, shaking his head, and returned to the book in front of him.

_Fifth, and last. I never wanted to drag you or Sam into this life. I protected you from it as best I could. But giving you this last gift of knowledge is the only way I can continue to protect you. Whether or not I shielded you both from this, it would one day find you, just as it found your mother, just as it found me._

_Sam is the scholar. You, Dean, are the soldier. Work together and trust in each other._

_I wish I could have given you a less supernatural inheritance._

_All my love to you both. I am sure you will grow into strong, intelligent, courageous men who are ready for the fight at hand. Stay vigilant, for now; no need to look for the fight. It will come to you._

_Until then, be at peace. Your time will come soon enough. Don't hurry to meet it._

_Good luck and godspeed._

_Love, your father_

_-John Winchester_

***

There was silence in the room for a very long time.

Dean had retreated up the stairs and hid in his room; he saw Sam go outside into the trees.

Gabriel and Castiel stayed in the living room/kitchen area. They seemed to sense that this was something the two humans needed to deal with on their own.

Dean sat down on the bed and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

_Damn._

_Damn it!_

He'd kind of hoped the adoption thing was just the evil carnivorous plant being an evil carnivorous plant.

_But why lie when the truth would hurt more?_

He had to get his shit together. Being adopted wasn't really the end of the world.

Besides, this family was the only family he had ever known.

So he was a Winchester, and a Campbell.

Just like his dad said.

The longer he thought about it, the more it made sense that his father had put him into a situation where he could not deny the existence of the supernatural.

He had probably thought the cabin was just haunted, since not even the angels had an inkling that these were prehistoric monsters. John had known that the place would manifest all kinds of weird things, and at least then Dean would be likely to listen.

None of them had really planned on Castiel or Gabriel, but the journal did mention that angels would walk among them one day, so John probably didn't have a bead on the when, just on the fact it would happen.

There were a lot of things wrong with John and Mary Winchester. Dean was glad that had been acknowledged, even in a small way.

But the idea that they'd been some kind of warriors against the supernatural all this time? Well, that was a surprise, and harder to swallow.

Oh, sure, Dean wanted to believe that he'd been mistreated all his life to make him tougher, so that he'd be a better soldier when it was finally revealed that he'd have to take up arms against the supernatural. But he highly doubted there was any intent in that - just garden-variety narcissistic parenting and abuse.

He supposed that even warriors against the supernatural could be shitty to their kids.

Finding out there were things like giant carnivorous plant-mimics had blown his mind. Seeing what he thought were ghosts made him think he might be crazy. And then angels -

So, Dean was ready to believe.

It was just taking some time to set in.

The part he was having the hardest time with was what to do with this information. His dad said that the fight would come to them, to stick close together and trust each other. What the hell did that mean? He had no idea.

Dean was a man who preferred action, and here he was, being told to wait for the fight?

Then again, he reasoned, he had no idea where the fight was, or even how to begin it.

After a few more minutes, he opened the door.

The two angels looked up at him.

"Where's Sam?"

***

Dean found Sam sitting on the hood of the Impala, staring up at the branches of the trees above him.

He slid up beside his brother and nudged him with a shoulder.

"Hey," said Dean.

"Hey," Sam replied.

They were quiet for a while, staring upward together, as the wind played in the branches and wafted the scent of pine down to them.

"So I've been thinking," said Dean. "And the first thing I wanted to do was to run in there, guns blazing. But you know, there's nowhere to run _to._ I don't know where to start."

"I've got a girlfriend and a good job," said Sam. "I don't know if I have time to fight the supernatural. Or if I even want to! It sounds dangerous."

"Yeah," said Dean. "Yeah, it does. But we know, now. That there's stuff out there. We've seen it with our own two eyes. You really wanna turn your back on that?"

Sam huffed, putting his hands into his jacket pockets.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe."

"And, okay, maybe we can," said Dean. "Dad's journal said it wouldn't happen right away. But I think - once it does, Sam, we know what these things are capable of, I don't think either of us would be able to sleep at night knowing what's out there and not doing anything about it."

Sam nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "You're right."

"Well, the _other_ thing he said was that we need to work together and trust each other," said Dean. "So, while we're waiting, maybe we should use that road trip to catch up. If we're going to end up as soldiers in some kind of upcoming war."

"I never knew we had something like this," said Sam, shaking his head. "It's just, really hard to believe."

"What, a family business?" asked Dean, grinning. "Yeah. I know what you mean. But we do. And I guess it's up to us, what we do leading up to the time that fight is brought to us. Still, now we have time to prepare. So let's prepare. Starting with that road trip to California. I don't know about you, but I've had enough of northern Minnesota for the time being. I think it's time for a change of scenery."

Sam looked at him with a grin.

"Does that mean you're accepting my offer to work on the house?" he asked. "And the land?"

"You bet your ass I am."


	29. California

**_SIX MONTHS LATER_ **

Dean opened his eyes to soft darkness and smiled.

He gently pushed the large, fluffy wing out of his way, feathers ruffling under his touch.

 _Angels are watching over you,_ his mother had said, when he was young and before things changed. 

Now he knew.

Castiel made a mumbled protest, rolling over and finding a pillow to cuddle instead, wrapping his wings around it.

"Stop, you're gonna make me jealous," murmured Dean.

He was surprised his face didn't hurt from grinning like an idiot all the time, these days.

Dean made his way down to the kitchen in the half-built house. He'd always been a morning person, and Castiel was definitively _not_. He was grumpy and stared into the middle distance until he'd had nearly an entire pot of coffee.

Then again, Dean supposed, he'd never lived with an angel before.

He and Sam had kept this place quiet, letting the angels think they were just off on a road trip and then in California doing some much-needed brotherly bonding.

Which they were, of course.

But Dean had wanted the house, and the land, to be a surprise.

He'd never forget the day he finally brought Castiel to the little yard, and the framework of the house, just in its beginnings but recognizable.

_"I don't understand why I have to be blindfolded, Dean."_

_"Just trust me, Cas."_

_"Very well."_

_Dean had then walked past him and turned around to face him, standing in front of the house he hoped Castiel would accept as his earthly home._

_Dean was wearing a soft sweater and brand-new jeans. He'd spent an hour in front of the mirror psyching himself up by overdoing it with the hair gel. It just didn't seem like it was enough and he wished guys had further options like makeup and fancy dresses or something to show off, but he finally realized that he was stalling._

_Now it was time._

_"Okay, Cas," said Dean, his voice unsteady. "You can look."_

_Castiel removed the blindfold and blinked._

_He looked at Dean, confused, and then the framework of the house, and the land around him recently cleared._

_He took in the sight of Dean, nicely dressed, and probably smiling too hard. His teeth felt like they were tacked there._

_"Dean?" he asked._

_"Uh, so," said Dean, "It's...I've been working on it. Sam gave me the land in exchange for working on his house for him and Jess. And so, I, uh. Want you to live with me. Here. With me. If you want. To live with me. Here. That is."_

_He snapped his mouth shut before it could embarrass him further._

_Castiel took a tentative step forward._

_"This is - " he began. "A - a nest? For me?"_

_Dean smiled harder. Now it hurt._

_"For us. If you accept."_

_All the air seemed to rush out of Castiel at once. He staggered forward into Dean's arms._

_"I accept, I accept, of course I accept," he said, smothering Dean with kisses. "Oh, Dean."_

_Then he backed up and gave him a strangely suspicious look._

_"You are very handsome," he accused._

_Dean's laugh, this time, was genuine._

_And they'd hung Sam's dreamcatcher on the nail above their bed._

Now, in the early morning light, Dean drank his coffee as he read the newspaper. Nothing too exciting happening locally. He'd never read the daily paper before, since he'd never lived anywhere long enough to take an interest.

Things were changing, in many insignificant, significant ways.

Besides. He couldn't pretend that he wasn't on the lookout for _it_ , whatever _it_ was.

The fight that was coming to him, he supposed.

But it seemed that it wasn't coming to them that day, or at least that morning.

So he got his tools together, and went outside to work.

It was well past noon by the time Castiel finally emerged from the half-built house.

Dean had long since shucked his t-shirt and was working in his jeans, low-slung on his hips. He was covered in sawdust and grime from working, and had to wipe the sweat from his forehead and eyes. Despite it being early fall, California's weather was decidedly warmer than northern Minnesota's in summertime.

Dean heard the growl behind him before he'd caught sight of Castiel.

So sue him, maybe those jeans were low-slung on his hips and showing off the dimples above his ass for a reason.

"Mornin', sleepyhead," said Dean. "I'm surprised all the hammering out here didn't wake you."

"Angels sleep deeply," said Castiel, and that voice still sent shivers down Dean's spine. 

He turned to look at Castiel, and sure enough, the angel was eyeing him hungrily, not looking up at his face.

"What happens if there's danger?"

"We wake up."

"But you didn't wake up with all the noise?" asked Dean.

"There was no danger."

Well. That was true, he supposed.

An arm snaked around his waist, yanking him from the ladder.

"Hey!" he said in protest.

Castiel was naked, black wings lifted high. He lowered his head and sniffed along Dean's neck and shoulder.

"I love your scent," murmured Cas, his lips brushing along Dean's skin.

Dean's eyes fluttered closed.

"You're gonna get us arrested for indecent exposure."

"There are no humans currently within a ten-mile radius," said Castiel. 

He pushed Dean's face to the ground and pulled his jeans down, just beneath his ass.

"Stay," he commanded.

Then he caressed Dean's back, growling all the while, just touching him everywhere and occasionally leaning forward to grind his hard cock against Dean's ass.

"Ain't you gonna do anything?" Dean complained from the ground.

"Patience, little mate," said Castiel, and Dean shivered, closing his eyes and relaxing, giving himself over to the angel entirely. " _There_."

Then he took his leisurely time fingering Dean open, making him a panting, begging mess.

"Please, Cas," Dean chanted. "Please, please - "

"Ssshh," said Castiel, gentling him with a touch. "Soon, beloved."

Dean could feel that blush spreading across his entire body, the thrill of getting caught, the embarrassment of his position, of his submission to the angel. His cock was a hard line against his stomach, precome dripping in the grass beneath him as he gloried in the sensations sending shudders of want through his body, as Castiel took his sweet damn time, like he had nothing else pressing to do except turn Dean into a puddle on the ground while he seemed completely unaffected.

Castiel settled his fat cock in the cleft of Dean's ass and started rocking against him, maddeningly gently and slow. Dean tried to push back against him, but Castiel held him still. He could feel the angel using his own oils to loosen him up, and the litany of little sounds that emanated from him, little chirps and grunts of varying expression, all possessive, all curious, all with a patience that was setting Dean's every nerve alight.

Then, Castiel's hand cupped his testicles, and Dean screamed as he came all over the ground beneath him.

"Yes," Castiel said aloud, and suddenly slammed home.

He held Dean's lax body as he hammered into him, Dean a helpless mess, weak in his arms. 

"Again, beloved," said Castiel softly, and Dean let out a sob as his cock filled again involuntarily, making him hard to the point of pain. But instead of coming again, he just teetered there at that edge while Castiel moved in him, hands sliding in the sweat and grime and sheen of Dean's body in the sunlight.

"You have always been golden," Castiel whispered at his shoulder, lips close to his ear. "Your soul, the most beautiful I have ever seen. You're beautiful, Dean. So beautiful."

Tears were streaming down Dean's face now, making tracks in the dust and dirt, and not just because of the intensity of the sex.

"You are more than that," he said. "We are more than that, together."

He bit down on Dean's shoulder as he came, the two of them writhing together outdoors in the bright sunlight, as they had in their Garden of Eden when they first got together all those months ago. 

"Cas," Dean croaked, his throat dry from the sounds he had been making.

" _Castiel_ ," he said. "I love you, Castiel."

The angel seized up so hard he knocked the wind out of Dean as his arm tightened around his stomach.

He shouted as that wave of blue light burst from him, sending wind through the trees all around them.

Panting, delirious, Castiel came down from his high. He looked doped up and downright groggy.

"Cheater," he accused, looking ready to climb right back into bed and go back to sleep.

"You know I normally wouldn't, but Sam's coming over in an hour," apologized Dean. "I assume he's bringing Gabriel. I don't think they'd appreciate your stamina as much as I do."

"Hmph," said Castiel, telegraphing that he currently wasn't too fond of the concept of brothers.

"Yeah, yeah," said Dean. "Let's get cleaned up and I'll make a pot of coffee. No going back to bed for you today. For any reason."

Castiel grumbled, but allowed himself to be led back into the house with the promise of caffeine.

***

A few hours later, Dean and Sam were back at work on the house. Both of them were shirtless now, much to Gabriel's delight and Castiel's chagrin.

Gabriel was floating on a little personal cloud he'd conjured up, all six golden wings on display as he lounged, floating past Sam while eating sugary popcorn.

"Sam," he said. "Did I ever tell you that your hair was like a flock of sheep going down Mount Gilead?"

"Uh, no?" said Sam.

Castiel chose that moment to lean closer to Dean and intimate:

 _"Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine,"_ in that deep and sultry baritone that got Dean's engines going just about every time.

"Gabriel, you're going to draw attention to yourself," Castiel scolded, taking his warmth away from Dean and distracting him, the bastard.

"When don't I?" asked Gabriel.

"Ssh! Someone's coming!" 

The little cloud beneath Gabriel vanished, and he fell unceremoniously on his ass.

"Ow! Hey!"

Castiel nodded in the direction of the road.

There was a mail truck standing at the end of the drive.

"Package for Mr. Winchester?"

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Which one?" he asked. "Sam or Dean?"

"Doesn't say," said the mailman. "Just says _Mr. Winchester,_ at this address."

Dean took the battered package from the man and signed for it.

"Thanks," he said.

"No problem," said Dean. "You have a good day now."

"You too, sir."

The man walked back to his truck and started it up, driving off into the distance.

Dean returned to the others, holding the package in his hands.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. There's no return address."

"Well, open it," said Sam.

Dean tore the package open.

He stared.

"I think the fight has come to us," he said, and showed them what was in the package.

It was an antique Colt firearm, with a note.

 _For Jacob and Esau,_ was all that it said. _Harvelle's Roadhouse._

"What the hell does that mean?" asked Sam.

"I don't know," Dean replied. "But I think we need to go there and find out."

***

They put the last few things into the trunk of the Impala and closed it.

"You ready?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "One condition. We leave Jess out of it."

Dean nodded.

"Done. We draw them out. You know this means leaving her behind, right? For a while."

"As long as she's safe."

Sam turned to Gabriel, beseeching.

"Don't worry, Sam," he said. "Despite the fact that she has won your affections, and I have not, you can depend on me. She will have the protection of an archangel."

"Thank you, Gabriel," said Sam. "I owe you one."

"I'll be cashing in on that in the future, don't you worry."

"I'd expect nothing less."

"And Cas - "

"Will be coming with you."

"I don't want you in danger - "

"Nor do I want _you_ in danger. I'm a soldier, Dean, and I made my choice about humanity a long time ago. If Gabriel is protecting Jess, then another angel can protect both of you. This is not up for discussion."

Dean sighed, and then acquiesced.

"Okay," he said, secretly thrilled that Castiel would be joining them. "Ready for life on the road?"

Sam smiled.

"Turned out that your life experience was just as valuable as mine," he said.

"How about that," said Dean. 

"Let's get a move on," said Castiel. 

He put an arm around Dean and spoke softly into his ear.

"The sooner we go, the sooner we can return," he said. "To our nest, and our home. But we go to protect the homes of others. For now. That's what it means to be a soldier."

"Yeah," agreed Dean, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. Okay."

The three of them climbed into the Impala, and with a final wave to Gabriel, headed down the American road, and into history.

-END-


	30. Author's Note

Thank you all so much for reading this story, I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope that people who are new to it will enjoy it just as much.

A lot of the elements of this story are factual, including that some of the locations are in fact real places with different names. 

Other inspirations for this story are a couple of favorite horror works, namely _Notebook found in a Deserted House_ by Robert Bloch, and _The Davenport_ by Jack Ritchie.

Here's a quick rundown of the factual information that partly inspired this story:

The Melek Taus is a real angel and the reason for the oppression of the Yazidi people. He is the peacock angel, and I wrote Castiel this way because of the idea of multiple eyes on the wings of angels.

The _hoot-dash_ is a real peacock mating signal, a response to the female making a mating offer. Courting calls just before mating are rare in the bird world.

Sundews and other carnivorous plants are fascinating, and there are many different types, from flytrap to flypaper to pitcher plants.

Thanks so much again for reading!


	31. Peacock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timestamp

"Cas?"

The house was long since finished. They had their marching orders.

The Apocalypse, so said Ellen, Jo, and Ash, was nigh.

Castiel and Dean were saying farewell to their home, or _nest_ as Castiel liked to call it, for what Dean privately feared might be the last time.

"In here."

Dean went into the bedroom and stood there in shock.

Castiel was standing in the center of the room, surrounded by enormous feathers. They were larger than him by far, beautiful cerulean peacock feathers that spread out and around him. His wings were folded in towards his body, the better to show off the brilliance of these feathers.

The effect was something like a Carnival dancer, just like Dean had said.

"It's an approximation," said Castiel, in a bashful tone that Dean found foreign on him. "I cannot show you my true form, not all of it, or it would burn out your eyes."

"Thanks," Dean said absently, completely transfixed by the feathers. They were so beautiful that his eyes hurt just looking at them. He could see why catching a glimpse of Castiel's awesome beauty in its entirety would burn his eyes out of his head.

_Beautiful, and terrifying,_ thought Dean. 

There were no words to explain why even these feathers, lovely though they were, carried a sense of threat, of something so much larger and incomprehensible to a human mind, but that certainty sat in Dean's brain like it had been planted there.

"Can I touch?" he blurted out, his hand already halfway there.

Castiel gave a nervous nod.

And there it was again. 

"Are you worried about something, Cas?" Dean asked, resisting the desire to touch in favor of making sure his lover was all right.

Castiel gave a brief nod.

"You can never see me," he said sadly. "Not really. Just these - faded shadows of who I truly am. What I truly am."

"Buddy, if it's anything like this, you got nothin' to worry about," Dean reassured him.

"It's not that," said Castiel. "Well, not _just_ that. I appear human to you, but I'm not human. I don't know if you would love me still - if you knew."

"Kinda known you weren't human for a while now," said Dean. "Clearly hasn't bothered me much."

"No, Dean," Castiel insisted. "In my true form, I don't look human at all. I look like - like the things we hunt. A monster."

"Cas," said Dean, and now he did move forward to touch the feathers.

Soft, with a sense of power like static, ready and waiting. Dean had the sense that if he moved his hand in the wrong direction, they'd cut like a knife.

"Castiel," said Dean. "You'll never be a monster to me."

Castiel drew Dean's hand down the feathers, and he could feel power radiate up into his arm in the wake of the touch. Then he pulled Dean close, and kissed him.

"I am in love with you, Dean Winchester," he said. "More than you will ever know. More than you can comprehend. And I will go on loving you, for every lifetime that remains to me as an angel."

Dean caressed the peacock feathers, then the feathers of Castiel's wings.

"These," he said, "are a part of you, the real you."

Then, he hid his face in Castiel's shoulder, because he couldn't look him in the eye while saying something so vulnerable.

"You'll always be beautiful to me," Dean murmured. "Thank you for trusting me enough to show me this. And I love you too, Cas. It's just human love, and a human lifetime. But it's all I got. And it's yours."

Castiel smiled sweet against Dean's skin.

"It's everything."


End file.
